


For you are mine at last

by thetolkiengeek



Series: At Last [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Catholic Lance, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Drunken Shenanigans, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Shenanigans, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Keith and Lance are roommates, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, Lance and Keith are grad students in astrophysics, Lance's POV, M/M, Mama Ramirez is a gift, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Lance (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), This is so cliche, Unresolved Sexual Tension, as in it gives me cavities just thinking about this, but do i care? no i do not, i should probably put here that keith and lance are part of the dead dads club, so i guess its not all fluff?, so much mutual pining, they go back to cuba for vero's wedding, this is all fluff, you bet your ass they wake up snuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 04:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15623001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetolkiengeek/pseuds/thetolkiengeek
Summary: Lance had dug himself his own grave, really. Months ago, he had told his mother that he'd be bringing a date to his sister's wedding, and here he was, one week out, and dateless. In a last-ditch effort not to disappoint his mama, he asks his roommate and friend, Keith, to go with him.What ensues is much less hilarity and a lot more pining than Lance had bargained for, but he wouldn't change a thing.---Or, the fake dating AU that I wrote for my good friend Jenna that is all fluff and no substance and WHAT WE ALL DESERVE OKAY





	For you are mine at last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [invisiblink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisiblink/gifts).



> Hello, hi. This monster started out as a quick gift for Jenna (@[invisiblink](http://www.invisiblink.tumblr.com)) after the emotional aftermath that was s6, but then it just kind of snowballed out of control and now we're here, 30k later, with the fluffiest, most tooth-rotting fake dating au you could ask for. I'm honestly surprised I got this done before s7 airs, but I DID IT.
> 
> This was inspired by Jenna saying that she wanted klance dancing to At Last at a wedding, and then I was like huh I haven't read a good fake dating in a while, and then I added a dash of My Big Fat Greek Wedding and here we are!
> 
> Anyway, as I've said in the tags, this is the most cliche fake dating ever, and I Do Not Care. Soft klance is the klance we all deserve.
> 
> Many thanks to my friend, fellow writer, and this time, beta, Dani (@[snowthunder](http://www.snowthunder.tumblr.com)). She's actually the whole reason this fic isn't more of a mess than it already is, no lie. 
> 
> Additional thanks to Dee (@[bondingrazzledazzletime](https://bondingrazzledazzletime.tumblr.com/)) for providing Spanish for this chapter as well as being my cultural beta. They're amazing, and since I was pulling mostly out of my own experience being an American in a large, sort-of Greek family, they were instrumental in helping to portray Lance's family and Varadero. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not speak Spanish, I have not been to Cuba, and I am super white. I will make mistakes, but I did really try.
> 
> Jenna, hope you like reading this as much as I liked writing it.
> 
> Title from [At Last by Etta James](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwzDxp2TC7I) because we're basic like that.

Lance knew he was in trouble the moment his sister called.

He slid the little icon and tapped the speaker button.

“Hey, Ronnie!” he said, running around the kitchen.

His sister sighed, but Lance could hear the smile in her voice. “You know I hate when you call me that,” she said, the phone making her voice tinny, “it makes me sound like an old lady.”

“Oh come on, you love it,” Lance said, rummaging around in the spice cabinet.

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “Yeah yeah, whatever, Alé.”

Lance couldn’t contain his grin. “Haven’t heard that one in a while. You must want something.”

“Who me?” Veronica asked, much too innocently for Lance’s taste.

Lance just let the silence sit, until…

“Okay, fine. Mamá asked me to talk to you.”

Lance placed his hands on the counter and took a deep breath. He loved his Mamá, he really did. In fact, Pidge had called him a Momma’s Boy on more than one occasion, and they weren’t wrong. But ever since graduating college, she’d been incessantly asking well-meaning questions about his love life.

Things had only seemed to intensify after Veronica became engaged. Spurred on by her newly-onset wedding fever, Mamá Ramirez was committed to meddling wherever she could, and Lance just happened to be her new favorite target, despite the difficulty the geographic distance posed. Not to mention, since Lance had come out to her, Mamá reasoned that there were now twice as many people to set Lance up with.

It most certainly was not the worst thing that could have resulted from Lance's coming out, but it wasn't exactly ideal either.

“She said you haven’t been answering her calls. You know she worries.”

“Yeah,” Lance sighed. “I know.

“Alejandro Michael McClain Ramirez, you call Mamá back, or so help me god, I will fly over there and beat you with my shoe,” Veronica said, doing her best impression of one Maria Ramirez.

Lance winced. “Did you really have to pull out the full name, Ronnie? You know how traumatizing that shit is.”

“Stop trying to distract me, it’s not going to work. Just…call Mamá, okay?”

“Yeah, I will,” Lance said.

“ _Gracias, Alejandrito_ ,” Ronnie said. “All yelling aside, I can’t wait to see you. It’s been a while since we’ve both been home.”

Lance smiled at that. It was true. Despite being in the same country, he and his twin rarely had a chance to see each other, let alone make the long, expensive trek home.

“Well I can’t wait to have real food again,” Lance said. “I’m trying to make beans, and they never come out the same.

“Mine don’t ever taste right either.” Lance could hear the wistful sadness creep into her voice.

They both let out a long sigh. It certainly wasn’t easy, being this far away from home. It was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done in his life, deciding to move to the States, and he knew it was the same for Veronica. Both of their older brothers had stayed, Luis raising his new family and Marco taking over their dad’s business. But for Veronica and Lance, their dreams took them elsewhere.

For Lance, his love of the stars had taken him to Garrison University in Arizona, while Veronica had found herself at some tech school in Georgia. After they both had graduated, Vero moved out to Texas to work for an independent company in Austin, and Lance stayed at the Garrison to get his Master’s.

It was tough on the both of them, to be so far away from their family, their home. Lance missed Varadero like crazy, feeling more landlocked than ever in the middle of the desert. But he had made a real life for himself out here. He had friends he loved, a steady, if sometimes insufficient, source of income, and a dream to go into space one day.

It was more than he ever could have hoped for, and Lance wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“I’m glad you decided to have your wedding at home,” Lance said finally.

“Yeah, me too. I wasn’t about to turn down a cheap destination wedding. Besides, there’s no way Mamá would ever forgive me if I didn’t get married at Santa Elvira.

Despite her griping, Lance knew that it was just as important to Veronica that her wedding was in the same church as their parents'. One thing that neither Lance nor Veronica had let go of in their respective moves was their faith. Lance could still remember his first Sunday service stateside. Campus had been quiet, most of the students sleeping off hangovers, but there Lance was in a pressed shirt and khaki pants, headed into the nondescript multi-faith building. The Catholic service had been small, but he sang the familiar hymns in Spanish as the others did the same in English, pretending that he couldn’t see his tears falling on the pews.

He had called Veronica immediately after the service, and they had cried together, 1800 miles apart.

Neither of them had stopped attending church, however, each committed to making their new environments work. The purposefully utilitarian space that housed the Catholic services in campus couldn't hold a candle to the beauty of Santa Elvira, but it gave Lance a sense of normalcy, an anchor in a world that otherwise wanted to set him adrift.

Santa Elvira, however, was more than just a place of worship, it was a part of their family, their history.

Lance smiled gently, though he knew Veronica couldn't see it. "You wouldn't have forgiven yourself either," he said.

Veronica gave a familiar, long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s been a bitch planning this, though. There’s so much to try and coordinate, and of course abuelita wants to help. One moment she’s offering to pay for the flowers, and the next she wants to pick out my dress for me, and now I’ve got to field questions from her about when she’s going to get great-grandkids, and all I want to do is sit and arrange the seating, dammit!”

“Vero, breathe,” Lance said, noting the growing panic in her voice.

She gave a long exhale. “Okay, okay, I’m calm.”

“You’ve been planning this for a year. You have a back-up plan for your back-up plan. Besides, I’ll be there to help you in the inevitable case of a disaster.”

“And suddenly I’m no longer calm.”

Lance chuckled. “But you feel better now, don’t you?”

“…maybe."

Lance turned off the stove and filled a bowl, bringing his phone to the breakfast bar.

“Seriously though, I still can’t believe this is finally happening,” Lance said, sentiment coloring his voice. “It feels like you’ve been talking about this wedding for years.”

“I can’t believe it, either. It’s not too soon, is it?”

To be perfectly frank, it wasn’t like Lance hadn’t thought about it. Veronica was his twin, only twenty-three. But she had met her fiance, Mark, the beginning of sophomore year, and they’d been together ever since. He had even moved to Austin for her, which definitely put him in Lance’s good graces.

“Vero,” Lance said, “you called me after the first date and told me that you were, and I quote, ‘going to marry that boy one day.’”

“Yeah,” and Lance could hear the dreamy smile in her voice, “I did.”

“Gross, don’t get all mushy on me, Ronnie.”

“Oh, like you haven’t gushed about that mullet-haired boyfriend of yours,” Veronica said.

Lance’s face flushed. “Who, Keith? Definitely not my boyfriend. I’d never date someone with such a tragic haircut.”

“Mmm…” Veronica trailed off meaningfully.

“You know what, I don’t need to listen to this slander, I’m hanging up now,” Lance said, his face still an uncomfortable shade of red. Like he and Keith would ever _date_. Sure, they were good friends now, but that didn’t mean that they were romantically compatible.

Keith “Mullet for Brains” Kogane was Lance’s self-proclaimed rival that had somehow along the way turned into a good friend. When they had first met, Lance was new to the school, new to the country, and he had struggled being so far from home. Keith, on the other hand, had been a star student even before the first day. He was already friends with the hottest TA, some tall drink of water named Shiro, and it seemed like being at the top of the class was almost effortless. That he also didn’t seem interested in making friends grated on Lance’s nerves.

Admittedly, what Lance did next wasn’t among what he’d call his finest moments. Instead of acknowledging his jealousy, he had decided that the best way to deal with his insecurities was to pick on the aloof loner. Much to Lance’s chagrin, Keith didn’t care. At all.

The next semester, Lance had walked up to him and declared that he’d get a better grade than Keith, to which Keith responded, “Who are you?” It was unfortunate for both of them, then, that that was the year that Hunk introduced Lance to Pidge, whose brother Matt knew Shiro, who had basically raised Keith. So, Keith and Lance were forced together, butting heads constantly.

Eventually, Lance realized that he didn’t have a problem with Keith so much as a problem with himself, with those feelings of inadequacy that surfaced so quickly when pushed into a completely new environment. It wasn’t Keith’s fault that he had trouble adjusting, so he swallowed his pride and apologized. Their bickering didn’t stop, it just took on a different form. Despite what Pidge and Hunk said, it was _not_ flirting. It was just some good-natured jabs between friends. You know, as completely platonic _friends_ do.

Besides, as if Lance could ever like Keith. He was broody, standoffish, impulsive, and a terrible liar. But then again, once you got past that prickly exterior, he was also kind, surprisingly funny, adventurous, and he really cared for his friends. He wasn’t bad-looking, either, despite the tragically outdated haircut. He had these dark blue eyes that looked absolutely gorgeous in the right light, and his smile was soft and warm, all the more beautiful for its rarity.

And goddammit, Lance didn’t like Keith!

“I don’t hear you hanging up,” Veronica taunted.

“Whatever, you’ll be able to tease me in person next week,” Lance said, “I’ll see you at the wedding. Bye, Ronnie!”

“Bye Lancito,” Veronica teased, “don’t forget to call Mamá.”

Lance ended the call and let his head hit the table with a muffled _thunk_. He really, really didn’t want to call his mother. Way back when they were planning the wedding, he had told his Mamá that he’d be bringing a date, and she had lit up like a Christmas tree. Fast forward a few months, and one week out, Lance still didn’t have anyone. He had asked Hunk, but he was at some interview for a PhD program. Pidge said no before he could even ask, and Shiro pointed out that he was very clearly married, pictures from his and Adam’s wedding all over Facebook.

And, like Lance had told Veronica, there was no way he was going with Keith.

He took a breath and opened his phone app, pressing the contact for Mamá Ramirez.

It barely rang twice before she picked up.

“Alejandro!” his Mamá greeted.

“Hey, Mamá,” Lance said, guilt coloring his voice.

“Don’t ‘hey, Mamá’ me, you haven’t called me in two weeks!”

Lance winced. “Sorry, Mami.”

“Yeah, you better be, I’ve been worried sick. The wedding’s in a week and I’m going crazy. I need to know if you want your date to sit next to Marco or Luis at the reception.”

Lance screwed up his face, every part of him cringing for what he was about to do. “About that, Mamá…”

“You’ve told me nothing about this person! I don’t even know if they’re a boy or a girl,” his Mamá continued, as if he hadn’t said anything. “I can’t wait to meet them. Anyone who’s dating you obviously has good taste. But if you’re bringing a boy, you have to let me know soon, because then we’ll put Tio Ricardo at the other table, you know how he is. It would be fun to piss him off, though…”

Lance chuckled. “You’re a pot-stirrer, you know that?”

Mamá Ramirez gave a little giggle. “I just like to have a little fun now and then.”

Something in Lance’s chest uncoiled a bit at his mother’s words. She was overbearing and ridiculous, and Lance loved her with every bone in his body. It had been months since he’d gotten a proper hug from his Mamá, and text messages and phone calls could only tide him over for so long.

“Now, just let me know about your date, and I can confirm everything,” she said.

And now the tension was back. Lance stumbled, fiddling nervously with his cross necklace. “Um, well…”

Lance heard the front door unlock, Keith choosing that exact moment to walk into their shared apartment. He had his messenger bag slung over his shoulder, papers practically spilling out of it. He held his motorcycle helmet in one hand, and with the other he threw his keys down on the entry table. His mullet was sticking up everywhere, sweat from the helmet making it look even more untamed than ever.

“Alejandrito?” prompted Lance’s mother, and Lance snapped out of his trance.

Keith shared a glance with Lance, and Lance’s eyes widened. Desperate times. “Just one sec, Mamá.”

Lance covered his the receiver with one hand, pulling the phone away from his face.

“Hey, Keith, what would you say to an all-expense paid trip to Cuba next week?”

Keith’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I need a date for my sister’s wedding,” Lance said, pleading with his eyes. He batted his eyelashes for good measure.

Some expression passed over Keith’s face, so quick that Lance couldn’t decipher it, but if he was going with his gut, he would have sworn it was something like hope.

“Uh…sure?” Keith said.

“Really?!” Lance practically leapt up in his chair he sat up so fast.

“Yeah, I could use a break,” Keith said, looking mournfully at his bag.

“Oh god, thank you so much. I could kiss you right now!”

Without another glance at Keith, Lance returned to his phone.

“Lance, is everything okay?” his Mamá asked.

“Yeah, sorry Mamá, I just needed to check something. You might wanna move Tio Ricardo just in case, I’m bringing Keith.”

His mother’s response was immediate and ecstatic. “Oh good! I’m glad you two finally got your act together. It’s about time.”

Lance blushed. “Uh…yeah, definitely.” He hadn’t been planning on taking Keith as anything more than a friend, but his Mamá sounded so excited…

“Okay, Alejandrito, I’ve got to go. The cousins just stopped by and are trying to help with the center pieces, and I need to do some damage control. I’m so glad you called, I’ve missed you.”

“Miss you too. See you in a week,” Lance said. “ _Te quiero, Mamá_.”

“ _También te quiero, Alejandro_. And hey, I’m happy for you. Can’t wait to actually meet this man you’ve talked so much about.”

With that embarrassing sign off, Lance’s Mamá hung up.

“So…your mom?” Keith asked, stumbling a bit awkwardly over the small-talk, like always.

Lance slumped, defeated, on the table, all the tension leaving him at once. “Yeah.”

“Are you okay?” Keith asked as he sat down next to Lance. “You’re usually insufferably happy after talking with her.”

Lance let out a long sigh. “I love my mamá, I swear, but she’s got it in her mind that I’m ‘missing something’ or whatever, just because I’m not dating anyone.”

“I mean, you’ve got to admit, it _is_ a bit weird for you,” Keith said, and reached across the table, claiming the rest of Lance’s dinner for himself. Lance let him, having lost his appetite somewhere between “Hey” and “Mamá.”

Keith wasn’t wrong. Even just a year ago, Lance had been going on multiple dates a week, cycling through significant others almost as often as he changed outfits. At some point, though, the dates stopped being fun and started feeling more something he thought he should be doing. If that time happened to coincide with the fact that he and Keith had decided to room together for grad school, well, that’s all it was--a coincidence.

“I told Mamá months ago that I’d bring a date, and I completely forgot until she started bugging me again. Thank you so much for agreeing to this. You won’t regret it, I promise,” Lance said, looking up at Keith, whose eyes sparkled with a bit of mischief.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to make you pay for this three times over once we get back.”

Lance groaned, though he had to try and hide a grin. “What, a paid vacation to Cuba isn’t enough?”

“Keep in mind, I have to be stuck with you the whole time, so no,” Keith retorted, but Lance could see a small smile on his face that let him know he wasn’t serious.

“Excuse you, I am a delight! You should feel honored that I even considered you,” Lance said, turning up his nose in mock offense.

“Yeah, it’s not like everyone else couldn’t come,” Keith said before taking another bite.

“Hey,” Lance said, placing his hand gently over Keith’s. “Seriously, thank you. I would have asked sooner if I thought you’d actually say yes. I just know crowds and parties make you nervous.”

Lance held Keith’s gaze for a long moment. Keith’s eyes shifted back down to the table, and he fiddled with his spoon.

“I told you, I could use a vacation. This semester kicked my ass. Besides,” Keith added, meeting Lance’s eyes again, “it’s not every day I can embarrass you in front of your family. Usually, it’s just your friends.”

Lance couldn’t help it, he _giggled_. “Oh believe me, you will have plenty of opportunities to do that. Marco and Veronica would never pass up the chance.”

Keith gave him one of his rare smiles, and went back to eating Lance’s food.

 

—

 

A week later, Lance and Keith found themselves at the airport in Havana, Cuba, and the gravity of what he was about to do finally hit Lance. What the hell was he thinking? He and Keith weren’t dating. Sure, they had worked out their story, and it wasn’t like Keith would have to do a lot of outright lying. Just holding hands, maybe a cheek kiss here and there. People already said they bickered like an old married couple.

But still, the moment Lance saw his sister Veronica pull up in her jeep, Lance knew this would be a long week.

It was Tuesday, and the wedding wasn’t until Friday, but Lance knew both Vero and his mother were going crazy trying to plan everything, so he already agreed to help run interference with the family as much as he could. That would mostly mean taking the little kids to the beach, so Lance wasn’t about to complain.

“Hey, Lancito!” Vero said, hopping out of her car to give Lance a hug.

His twin looked beautiful, as always. She and Lance shared the same bronze skin tone and chestnut hair, but she let hers go long, the slight curl going almost frizzy in the humidity despite being held back by a hair tie. She had the tell-tale angular McClain face, but her eyes were a warm, soft brown as opposed to Lance’s blue.

The pounding in Lance’s heart settled a bit as he hugged his sister back. Lord, it was good to be back home. The Havana heat settled around him, hugging him as much as his sister was.

“Hey, Vero. I didn’t know you’d be the one picking us up,” Lance said, once she let go.

Veronica laughed. “Yeah, I needed to get out of that damn house. Marco was originally going to be the one to come get you, but Tia Elena decided to stop by out of the blue and I just ran. I left poor Mark there by himself, though. I hope he’s alright.”

“Poor Mark," Lance smiled. “But I don’t blame you.”

Tia Elena was getting up in years, and she was angry about it. She kept insisting she could help, but really, she just sat around and roped you into a three-hour, one-sided conversation about how everyone was on those darn phones and couldn’t ever be bothered to come visit.

“So, you gonna introduce me or what?” Veronica said, stepping back and looking at Keith, who was awkwardly standing there next to his red duffel, fiddling with the strap.

“Oh, right!” Lance said, jumping into action, “Vero, this is Keith, my boyfriend.” Lance then gestured between them. “Keith, this is my twin sister and all-around nuisance, Veronica.”

Lance gave himself a mental pat on the back  for not having stumbled over the word “boyfriend.” Though with two older siblings and a very nosy twin, he was well-practiced at hiding things.

Veronica raised an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend, hm?”

Lance gave her a sheepish smile, and she hit him with an unimpressed look.

“Even though he has a tragic haircut?” she asked pointedly.

Lance took a deep breath. He had realized after hanging up with his mother that he had accidentally hit a snag two minutes into the plan, but luckily, he’d had a week to come up with a solution.

Lance rolled his eyes feigning a shy annoyance he only half-felt. "Look, I didn't want to say anything because I wasn't sure Keith would even want to come, okay? You would've blabbed to Mamá the instant I said anything, and I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. So...surprise?”

Veronica snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re such a drama queen. I don’t know why I even bother.”

She then turned to Keith, appraising him. Keith looked increasingly uncomfortable, starting to curl in on himself. Oh no, he just crossed his arms. Lance could see the panic building, and he quickly ran interference.

“Hey, don’t scare him, he just got here!” Lance said, stepping in between Keith and his sister, breaking Vero’s signature glare.

Lance could feel more than see Keith relax minutely behind him, no longer tight as a taut string, and Veronica smiled, her face turning from scary to welcoming. “Sorry, Keith, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m glad you could make it, really. Lance has talked a lot about you.”

Lance’s eyes widened and he gestured frantically for her to stop. Vero just caught his gaze, winking, before continuing to make his life a living hell.

“He never said you were this good looking, though. Why are you with this nimrod? You’re clearly out of his league.”

Keith flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I wouldn’t say that…” Keith trailed off, and Lance felt his own face flush red.

But he had a part to play, so he just smiled at his sister. “I am fucking beautiful, and you know it. Now, I don’t know about you, but I want to go home and take a nap.”

Lance felt Keith sag with relief next to him, and he was grateful when Veronica seemed to notice, too, and moved to open the trunk.

“You know Mamá is just going to put you to work, right?” his sister asked as they threw their luggage in the back.

Lance sighed. “Yeah, but can’t a boy dream?”

Lance moved to take the front seat, but Veronica stopped him. “Nope, guest takes shotgun. I need to give him the shovel talk, anyway.”

Lance pouted and said, “It’s like you don’t even love me.” But he climbed in the back anyway, and Keith swung himself deftly into the front seat. If anyone asked, Lance totally wasn’t checking out how Keith’s arm muscles flexed when he pulled himself up. Nope, not him.

Veronica started the car and cruised out of the airport. Lance let his arm dangle outside the window, moving his hand through the Cuban air, feeling like he was breathing properly for the first time in ages. Palm trees lined the colorful streets, and Lance smiled as he took in the familiar sights.

The wind was loud in the open-air Jeep, and Lance could barely hear the radio, let alone Veronica's sure-to-be threatening words to Keith. Lance watched on with suspicion, keeping strict tabs on Keith's facial expressions. When Veronica said something bad enough to elicit a full red-faced response from Keith he finally poked his head between the front seats to look at his sister.

“So, what’cha talking about?” Lance yelled over the wind.

“None of your business, Alejandrito,” Veronica said, and she barely spared him a glance before pushing a hand in his face and shoving him back.

“Hey!” Lance yelped, and he heard Keith laugh. Something warm curled in Lance’s belly at the sound, and he caught Keith’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Those indigo eyes looked unlined for the first time in months, and Lance gave him a small smile.

He sat back and just let himself watch Keith in the side mirror as he talked with his sister, Keith’s ridiculous mullet blowing everywhere in the breeze. He was spitting hair out of his mouth so often that Veronica finally gave in and and handed him a hair tie. Lance caught a glimpse of the curve of Keith’s neck as he pulled his hair into a loose, low ponytail, and Lance pretended his heart hadn’t momentarily stopped.

He had a feeling this was going to be a very, _very_ long week.

 

—

 

The two hour drive from Havana to Varadero seemed to take no time at all. Eventually, at Lance’s behest, Veronica finally turned up the radio, and they shout-sang the rest of the way there. When, inevitably, “Havana” came on, even Keith joined in, his soft voice stumbling a bit over the words, but lord knew Lance blasted it often enough in the apartment that he knew most of the lyrics already. Call him a cliche, but that song was a fucking bop.

Lance felt lighter than he had in weeks despite the impending doom of lying to his entire extended family about a boyfriend he didn’t actually have. But he was home, he could smell the ocean, and he was here with one of his best friends in the world.

Soon, the drive became intimately familiar. He recognized the corner store, the home of that one neighbor who always paid him a little extra to mow his lawn, his abuela’s house...

He spotted his childhood home well before they got to it. He could already feel the familiarity of every nook and cranny, the well-worn smoothness of the wooden floors, the scratchy old carpets in their bedrooms upstairs. He could picture every scrape on the walls, even the old frisbee he was sure was still stuck on the roof. It was two-storeys full of memories etched into the fabric of the house like welcome scars. Even from this distance, Lance could spot the overflowing window boxes bursting with flowers, a couple bikes overturned in the yard, and the cheery, red door. Lance’s heart warmed at the barely reigned-in chaos.

By the time they pulled into the familiar driveway, Keith had irreparably windblown hair despite the ponytail, and Lance couldn’t wipe the smile off his face even if he tried. Out in the front yard, three kids were playing tag, and they stopped the moment his sister cut the engine.

“ _Tio! Tio! Tio!_ ” came a chorus of little voices, all babbling in rapid-fire Spanish.

Lance hopped down from the Jeep, not even bothering to wait for Keith to let him out, just climbing out the side, and chased after the kids. He picked little Isa up and swung her around.

“ _Oh, ¡Mira qué grande estás! ¡Te dije cuando me fuí que debiás parar de crecer!_ "

Ernesto giggled and clung to Lance’s arm, pulling him so he was sitting in the grass, while Clara tried to show him her new doll. The kids really had grown quite a bit since he last saw them, and Lance took a moment to really look at them. Isa and Ernesto resembled their dad Luis, their skin a light bronze, and their blue eyes warm and inviting. Clara, however, took after her mother Penelope, with curly brown hair, beautiful brown eyes, and deep brown skin.

Lance looked up to see Keith staring at him with what could only be described as fondness. Lance revelled in the soft half-smile, one that appeared more and more the longer they were here. Good. Lance had seen the toll the semester had taken on Keith, how hard he worked just to feel like he hadn’t gotten anywhere. That program was brutal, and Lance knew that if he and Keith hadn’t roomed together, hadn’t helped each other study, they’d both have drowned.

A small hand tugged his chin and Lance reluctantly broke his gaze, turning instead to his little nephew who wasn’t looking quite so little anymore.

“ _¿Quién ese Tío?_ ” asked Ernesto, eyes wide staring at Keith.

“That’s Keith,” Lance replied in English, trying to bring Keith into the conversation as much as he could. “My boyfriend.”

Clara scrunched up her nose. “Boyfriend? I thought boys had girlfriends.”

Lance chuckled. “Some boys have boyfriends, and some girls have girlfriends. People fall in love in all sorts of ways.”

Clara seemed to think about this for a moment, mulling it over with her adorable kid-logic, and ultimately decided that it made sense.

Meanwhile, Isa and Ernesto didn’t seem phased in the slightest, nodding and continuing to tug on Lance’s shirt.

“Lancito, get your lazy butt over here and help your guest with the luggage!” Veronica yelled from the car.

Lance groaned and moved Isa off his lap, standing up, much to the chagrin of the little ones who clamored in complaint. He walked back over to where Keith and Veronica were standing, hauling his and Keith’s luggage out of the trunk and heading towards the house.

“Lance, hold on, at least let me help,” Keith protested, following him up the drive.

“Nope, nuh-uh. My mamá raised me right, and I’m not about to let my guest carry his own bag,” Lance said. He fumbled a bit with his suitcase and Keith’s duffel, but he was determined.

The front door opened before they even reached it, and Lance saw his mother for the first time in months, standing there with her apron and house sandals on. She had a few more grey hairs than the last time Lance had seen her, and a few more lines had etched their way into her skin, but her eyes and her smile were just the same. Her long brown hair was pulled into a messy bun low on her head, her soft brown eyes warm and inviting. She was built just like Lance--all limbs, but she carried herself with a grace that Lance could only dream of possessing. He had missed his Mamá _so much_.

Lance let the bags drop and ran up to give his mother a hug.

She didn’t say a word, just wrapped her arms around him, and Lance breathed in the familiar, comforting smell of his mother’s lotion and her favorite perfume, the one Lance had bought her when he was very little, some cheap brand that never smelled right on anyone else.

“ _Te extrañe_ ,” Lance murmured, a stray tear escaping to drop on his mother’s shirt.

“ _Te extrañe tanto Alejandrito_ ,” his mother said, pulling back, her eyes looking a little teary as well.

“Now,” she said, turning away from him and towards Keith, who had been standing there awkwardly, fiddling with his hands because Lance had stolen his duffel, “where are my manners? I’m Maria, and you must be Keith."

Mamá Ramirez pulled Keith in for a hug. Keith’s eyes widened, and he looked at Lance with something akin to panic. But after a moment, he awkwardly hugged her back, and that seemed enough. She let go, stepping back a bit to get a good look at him.

“Oh my, you are quite handsome. Lance, you really caught yourself a fine-looking young man!”

“Um, thank you?” Keith said uncertainly, his eyes shifting.

It seemed to Lance that there wasn’t a part of Keith that wasn’t some shade of red. Come to think of it, there wasn’t a part of Lance that didn’t feel like it wasn’t on fire.

“Mamá, stop,” Lance said, “you’re embarrassing him. And me.”

Lance’s Mamá smiled. “I’m just saying! Keith’s a looker.”

Lance shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, my boyfriend’s super hot, can we continue this conversation in the A/C?”

Maria chuckled. “Yes, of course, let’s get you all settled. I’m sure you’re exhausted after that plane ride.”

She ushered them both inside, Lance hauling the luggage through the door.

Lance took a moment to drink in the sight of his childhood home--a living room, crowded with mismatched furniture, and a large kitchen, food already simmering on the stove, filling the house with the smells of homemade cooking. There were bright cheery decorations, and of course lots and lots of pictures. But, more important than the sights or the smells or the sounds, were the people. Seated at the kitchen table, Lance saw his brothers Marco and Luis, and Luis’s wife Penelope next to him. In the living room, Lance spotted a few of his younger cousins, and…well, it looked like Tia Elena was still here.

Lance saw Keith, staring with wide eyes at everyone in the house. His shoulders were slowly creeping up to his ears, and the carefree look from the car ride over was gone. Instead, he was reverting back to closed-off Keith, the version of him Lance remembered from back in his “rivalry” days.

Lance’s Mamá was already bustling around the kitchen, her attention moving off of Keith, but Lance could see the rest of his family beginning to get up, and more than a few people were staring outright.

“¿ _Mami, me voy a llevar las maletas y darle a Keith un tour, ¿está bien?_ ” Lance asked.

She looked up from the stove, and Lance saw her eyes flicker over to Keith, taking note of his body language as well.

“Okay, go ahead. We’ll still be here after you both have settled in a bit.”

Lance leaned over the counter and kissed his mamá on the cheek, grabbed the bags, and motioned for Keith to follow him.

They climbed the carpeted stairs and made their way down to the end of the hall where Lance stopped at a familiar door. A large _Empire Strikes Back_ poster hung from old tape, one of the sides torn and sloppily repaired, and the rest curling in with age. Lance could still see the heart he drew around Leia in magic marker when he was nine. He was sure that the little heart he hid next to Han when he was sixteen was still there as well.

“Nice poster,” Keith said, smirking a bit.

“Oh you haven’t seen anything yet,” Lance replied airily as he opened the door.

It was smaller than Lance remembered, but then again, so was the rest of the house. Yet, so much was still the same, vestiges from his former self. His NASA poster still hung above his bed. His dresser was covered in stickers of various sea animals. His shelves were still littered with shells he had collected from the beach, and his favorite stuffed shark still sat on his chair.

Mamá had clearly cleaned up and made his bed with his favorite baby blue sheets, which Lance had no doubt was all for Keith’s benefit. No way his mamá would clean his room for him without some ulterior motive.

“So,” Lance said, putting their bags down, “this is my old room.”

He turned to see Keith quietly wandering the room, running his hand gently over the shells, his mouth slightly parted.

Lance reached up and fiddled with his necklace. He wasn’t sure why but he felt…nervous. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that only Hunk had seen his childhood room, and that was through a grainy Skype call. But the way Keith was looking at it, like he was trying to puzzle out who Lance was from the things he left behind, made Lance’s heart start beating heavily in his chest.

“So…” Lance said, tapping a nervous beat with his fingers, unable to take the silence, “what do you think?”

Keith continued his slow circle around the room, not looking at Lance.

“I’ve gotta say, I’m disappointed,” Keith said finally, and Lance felt his stomach plummet.

“What?” he asked, more than a little hurt.

Keith looked up at him and gave him a wry smile. “I was expecting way more embarrassing posters.”

Lance let out a breath and laughed. “Oh, believe me, they’re here.”

He moved to the closet door and pulled it open to reveal another large poster, this time of Return of the Jedi. Then, he reached in, hands searching, hoping his Mamá hadn’t thrown it away. He grinned as he grabbed hold of what he was looking for.

“Okay, are you ready for the greatest thing you’ve ever seen?” Lance asked, surely smiling like an idiot. Keith’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

Lance pulled out a cardboard cutout of Indiana Jones.

Keith broke down and let out a full-belly laugh. “Oh my god, you can’t be serious.”

“All the Han Solo ones were sold out,” Lance said with a shrug. “Though I can’t say I minded too much.”

Keith shook his head. “Yeah, Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones is way hotter than Harrison Ford as Han Solo.”

Lance made an affronted noise in the back of his throat. “You take that back!”

“Come on, Lance,” Keith said, still grinning. “You’re telling me that you didn’t die everytime Indiana had another button come undone?”

“Oh, definitely,” Lance said. “I’m just saying that Han in that vest with that blaster was hotter.” He moved to stuff Indy back in the closet.

“No, wait,” Keith said, “leave him out.”

Lance gave a smirk. “Alright, Mullet.”

He set the cutout next to the bed where Keith would be sleeping.

“Honestly, Lance,” Keith said as he sat on the bed, “how did you ever think you were straight?”

Lance chuckled. “Yeah, well, let me tell you, for a while I thought I just really wanted to _be_ Captain America. I had a couple really confusing dreams.”

Keith ducked his head, but not before Lance saw his smile. God, he really loved making Keith smile like that.

The room fell quiet, the hush a relief in the wake of the busy house downstairs.

“You’re not actually disappointed, are you?” Lance asked finally.

Keith locked eyes with Lance, his indigo eyes piercing through Lance’s own blue ones.

“No,” Keith said softly. The corner of his mouth twitched up in the barest hint of a smile. “It’s very you.”

Lance let out a breath and flopped down on the bed beside Keith, making him bounce a little. “Good. And you’re sure you’ll be okay, staying here for the week?”

Lance waited while Keith collected his thoughts. It took a while, but after years of knowing Keith, Lance had finally learned that just because Keith was quiet didn’t mean anything was wrong. As much as he was a shoot-first kind of guy, Keith always thought out his words. Kind of the opposite of Lance, really. Lance never thought about his words, but always waited to test the water before jumping in. Except if it was real water, of course.

“I’ll be fine,” Keith said finally. “I know you’re worried about me, but as long as you don’t leave me alone with some random relative, I’ll have fun.”

Lance smiled at the thought of leaving Keith alone with Tia Elena.

“Hey,” Lance said, nudging Keith’s side with his elbow, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Keith huffed out a small chuckle. “I bet you are.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“You better be decent, I’m coming in!” called a voice.

Lance looked up as his older brother Marco opened the door. Marco was kind of the odd one out in the family. Unlike the rest of the his siblings, he took after their father with dark blond hair, deep blue eyes, and skin that easily freckled. Lance had his fair share of freckles, too, but they were harder to see against his bronze complexion. Despite these differences, however, Marco still had the typical, lanky Ramirez build, and shared Lance's facial structure; something they both inherited from their grandfather. In hindsight, it was probably for the best that they differed so drastically in coloring, otherwise they would have attempted far more nefarious shenanigans as kids. Lance and Veronica had been bad enough on their own.

“Oh,” Marco said as he saw that both Keith and Lance were fully dressed and several feet apart. “I’m almost disappointed.”

Lance snorted. “Puh-lease. Give me some credit, Marco. I’m classier than that.”

Keith laughed at that. “You? Classy? In what universe?”

Lance whacked Keith with a pillow.

“Oooh, I like this one, Alejandrito,” Marco said.

“Okay, that’s it,” Keith said. “What’s with this Alejandrito business?”

“You never heard of a nickname, Mullet?” Lance asked.

“But...your name is Lance, Lance,” Keith said, genuinely baffled.

Marco laughed. “Oh my god, you seriously didn’t tell him? And you’ve been dating how long?”

Lance felt his cheeks warm.

“Tell me what?” Keith said, sitting up on the bed.

Marco smiled, and Lance tried his best to sink through the bed into the floor, covering his face with his hands. “Your boyfriend’s name isn’t Lance. It’s Alejandro.”

Silence.

Lance dared to peek through his fingers at Keith, whose face just looked stunned.

“You’re kidding,” Keith said and looked at Lance. “He’s kidding, right?”

Lance sighed, resigning himself to his fate. “Unfortunately not.”

Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t ashamed of his name exactly. It was just that when you were a kid around 2009, having the name Alejandro was apparently a license for people to sing Lady Gaga. Which was funny the first few times, but after about the fiftieth terrible rendition…

Keith’s brow furrowed, clearly puzzling over this new information.

“How come I didn’t know?” he asked finally, softly.

Oh jeez, Lance couldn’t stand it when Keith made that face. He looked like a kicked puppy, and the fact that Lance was the one to make him look that way? Worst. Feeling. Ever.

Lance shrugged as best he could from the bed and glanced at his brother, who looked increasingly uncomfortable, like he accidentally intruded on a private conversation. He kind of was intruding, in a way, but not quite like he thought.

“When I moved to the states, it was easier just to go by ‘Lance.” That way people didn’t have to stumble over my name or sing that stupid Lady Gaga song. Besides, I’m not really an ‘Alex.’”

“Oh,” Keith said, but Lance sensed by the defeated slump of his shoulders that Keith still was upset.

“Don’t take it personally, Mullet,” Lance said. “Only Hunk knows.”

“Oh,” Keith said again, this time his voice was more relaxed.

“Well,” Marco said, having the decency to look at least a little guilty. “I just came up to see if you two wanted to go on a walk with me, Luis, and Penelope?”

Lance jumped at the excuse to get out of the house. “Ugh, please! C’mon Keith, let’s show you Varadero.”

 

\---

 

Somehow, probably by the grace of his mother and by virtue of the fact that Lance had a guest, they managed to escape without being waylaid by some curious cousin. Lance practically dragged Keith out of the house, barely waiting for his brothers and sister-in-law before setting out.

Lance was filled with excitement. Sure, Hunk had gotten to see some of his home through a video chat, but this was the first time one of his friends had actually visited. Lance was exhilarated by the chance to show Keith where he was from, the place that shaped him so much as a person. And Varadero was beautiful, picturesque, gorgeous, but most of all it was home.

Lance practically skipped out of the house, dragging Keith along the old driveway.

“Lance!” Keith yelled, though he was laughing, so Lance knew he wasn’t all that mad, “Shouldn’t we wait for your family?”

“Ugh, fine,” Lance said, and he slowed down a bit, waiting at the end of the drive.

Marco, Luis, and Penelope all walked out of the house, strolling down to meet them.

“Hey, Loverboy,” Luis said, punching Lance in the arm. “So this is the Keith we’ve heard so much about.”

Lance blushed again, but he could reasonably blame that on the Cuban heat. “Yup. This is my boyfriend, Keith.” He took Keith’s hand. Lance was proud, Keith only jumped a little before slowly intertwining their fingers.

( _“Okay, Keith, we should practice holding hands.”_

_“Why?” Keith asked, taken aback. “I know how to hold someone’s hand.”_

_Lance sighed and tutted a bit. Oh, he had so much to learn. “Well, tell me. Waffles or pancakes?”_

_Keith furrowed his brows. “What the fuck does breakfast food have to do with holding hands?”_

_Lance shook his head. “Pancakes is when you hold hands like this.” Lance took hold of Keith’s hand and held it so their palms were flat against each other, but his were shifted 90 degrees so that all his fingers were still together._

_“So?” Keith asked. “That’s how you hold hands!”_

_“No no no,” Lance said, teasing but gentle. “That’s how you platonically pancake. Couples waffle, like this.” And Lance moved their hands so their palms aligned and their fingers intertwined. “_ That’s _how you hold hands.”_ )

Lance gestured to his brother with his free hand. “Keith, this is my oldest brother Luis and my sister-in-law, Penelope.”

“Nice to meet you, Keith,” Luis said, and held out his hand.

Keith gave a small smile, tentative smile at the two. “Likewise,” he said, releasing Lance’s hand to take Luis’ and then Penelope’s. Lance did his best to ignore the small pang in his chest when Keith let go.

Marco sidled up behind Luis then, and he slung an arm around his shoulders.

Lance waved lazily towards the pair. “And of course you’ve met Marco. Just a warning, he’s gonna try and get you to tell Abuelita that you’ve got, like, three testicles or something, so don’t trust anything he says,” Lance said.

Luis snorted and Penelope didn’t even try to hide her giggle.

Marco had the audacity to look offended. “I would never!”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” Keith said, offering that little smile of his.

Marco gave an impish grin. “Yeah, probably best that way.”

Lance shook his head, but he couldn’t keep the smile from breaking across his face. It was one thing to tell Keith he’d get along with his family. It was another thing entirely to see it happen.

Keith smirked and looked to Lance. “While we’re on the topic, any warnings about this one?” He gestured at Luis.

Lance shook his head. “Nah. If anything, Luis got boring after he and Penelope had kids.”

Luis just shrugged. “He’s not wrong. We’re tired.”

“Yeah,” Penelope chimed in. “I have no problems being boring. The kids are crazy enough for the both of us.”

Lance chuckled a bit. He loved his nieces and nephews, don’t get him wrong, but he was perfectly happy handing them back at the end of the day.

“Alright, well,” Marco said, “shall we?”

Lance was practically vibrating with energy as they set off down the familiar street, eventually winding their way through the more touristy areas. Varadero was mostly made up of beach, and resorts lined almost the whole stretch, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to mind just then. He was too busy pointing out the palm tree he tried to climb when was five (he had a scar on his elbow to prove it), the little convenience store he worked at when he was thirteen, and the place where he and Veronica almost got attacked by a guard dog because they strayed a little too close to some rich person’s property.

All the while, the sun beat down a welcoming warmth, though it was no match for the warmth radiating from his and Keith’s joined hands. Somewhere between the second and third story about childhood shenanigans, Keith had grabbed his hand again, and he hadn’t let go. Lance beamed with pride. He and Keith had worked out a plan: show enough casual PDA that the family would think that they were actually dating, but Keith had drawn the line at full-on kissing.

It was a fair enough boundary, Lance thought. They weren’t really going out, and Lance wasn’t a fan of making out with people in front of his whole family anyway. Especially when Tio Ricardo was there.

So there they were, settling for holding hands while Luis and Penelope trailed behind, also holding hands. Marco, however...

“So, Keith…” Marco started, brushing his blonde hair out of his eyes and appraising Keith. Keith, for his part, didn’t look so intimidated anymore. Lance noticed Keith’s posture relaxing as their walk went on, the stiffness leaving his limbs as he adjusted to being around Lance’s siblings. Keith wasn’t shy exactly, he just took a little longer to warm up to people.

“So, Marco,” Keith parroted, staring right back.

“What is it that you do, exactly? You’re in the same grad program as Lance, right?”

Keith nodded, relaxing into the familiar role of long-suffering student who was doomed to recite their elevator pitch on demand. “Yeah, I study gravitational waves and their effects on space-time. Well, in theory. Lately, it feels more like I’m doomed to grading mediocre undergrad papers ripped off from the most recent Neil deGrasse Tyson special.”

Lance smiled. Yeah, he felt that. Keith and Lance were the least senior members of the grad program, so they were stuck TA-ing the Introduction to Astronomy class. Lance agreed to take office hours as long as Keith graded the essays, but Lance still got just as many questions about Neil deGrasse Tyson as Keith probably read.

“You’re not gonna compete with my little bro for the same jobs, now are you?”

“Marco!” Lance punched his brother in the arm. Tact clearly didn’t run in the family.

“No, no,” Keith said, and he waved his free hand, and Lance could feel the tug from their joined hands as Keith nervously tried to gesture like he always did. “It’s a fair question.”

“So?” Marco asked, looking Keith up and down with a look that Lance didn’t like. It went beyond the “shovel talk” look. This was the “I don’t know if you’re good for my sibling” look, which was objectively way worse.

“Lance is interested in the same kinds of things, yeah. But he’s more about what actually _makes_ the gravitational waves. Celestial bodies, orbiting stars, black holes. He’s got his head in the stars for sure, but that’s exactly where he needs to be.”

Lance stopped short, inertia taking Keith forward until he was tugging on his hand.

“I didn’t know you paid that much attention,” Lance said fondly. He looked at Keith, and he could feel how soft the expression on his face was. He knew what Keith did. Keith was on a different level entirely, thinking about things Lance, even with his background, could barely dream of. But he had no idea Keith thought about what Lance did.

“Of course I pay attention,” Keith said, giving him a look just as fond. “You’re doing amazing stuff, Lance”

Okay, this time Lance really couldn’t blame the heat that flooded his cheeks on the Cuban sun.

“Well, you too, Mullet,” Lance said, squeezing Keith’s hand.

Marco made a gagging noise and pretended to throw up. “God, we get it, you’re disgustingly in space love or whatever.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Penelope said and Luis nodded.

Lance shook his head. He couldn’t risk getting caught up in that look. No, Keith was here as a favor to him, as a friend and nothing more. There was no use reading into things that weren’t there. Lance had done that before, and that ended up resulting in a drunken night, some handcuffs, and getting stuck to a tree. Not in the fun way, either.

They kept walking. Luis and Penelope had led them to one of the main beach entrances, and Lance’s pulse picked up.

“Come on!” he exclaimed, dragging Keith’s hand and running the instant he saw sand.

God, it had been a dog’s age since Lance had been to the beach. He, Hunk, Pidge, and Keith had all taken a road trip out to Santa Monica to visit Shiro and Adam a few months back, but it hadn’t nearly been enough. Growing up near the ocean, just a short walk away from the beach, Lance had never done well being landlocked.

The familiar lazy crashing of waves, the crystal blue water, the blinding white Caribbean sand. Lance breathed it all in, savoring the smell of salt on the air. _This_ , this right here, was home.

His siblings laughed at him as he immediately kicked off his flip flops, leaving them God knew where in the sand. He let go of Keith’s hand and ran splashing into the waves.

He closed his eyes and outstretched his arms in a gesture of worship meant to soak in every bit of salt, sun, and sand. He stood there for a moment, just to let it linger.

“Hey, Moana!” Keith called from behind him. Lance turned and grinned, noticing how Keith squinted against the snow white sand even as he waved Lance’s discarded flip flops in the air. “You left your shoes.”

He watched as Keith tried to pick his way through the sand in his well-worn high tops. He had tried to tell him to wear flip flops, but Keith was a walking advertisement for Hot Topic. He didn’t do flip flops. Lance bet he was regretting that now.

Keith stopped next to Lance, far enough from the lapping of waves to avoid soaking his already sandy shoes.

“I don’t need shoes to restore the heart of Te Fiti.”

Keith snorted, ducking his head. Lance noticed he did that a lot. A shame, really. Lance thought he had a beautiful smile.

Lance turned back to see where his siblings had gone off to. He spotted Marco a ways down the beach, but Luis and Penelope were still strolling hand in hand.

“Penny and I are gonna head back and help Mamá, okay?” Luis said once they got within hearing range.

“Sure thing. We’ll be there soon,” Lance replied.

He turned back to the surf, relishing the feeling of the cool, wet sand between his toes.

Keith plopped down beside him and tugged off his Converse, sand spraying up everywhere.

Lance laughed. “I’m not gonna say ‘I told you so.’”

Keith glared up at him. “You just did, idiot.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you didn’t take my advice.”

Keith stood up, brushing as much sand off his black skinny jeans as he could before tying the laces of his shoes together and slinging them over his shoulder. “You also told me to pack my motorcycle jacket because it, and I quote, ‘might get a little chilly.’ It’s May, Lance.”

Well, that wasn’t the only reason. It just so happened whenever Keith wore that jacket, Lance thought he looked like some dashing badass from the cover of a trashy romance novel. Sue him, he wanted Keith to make a good impression on his mother.

“Whatever,” Lance said, grabbing his flip flops from Keith’s hands. “At least I tried.”

He started to lead Keith down the beach, aiming for the entrance closest to his family’s home, but he set a leisurely pace. He could just see Luis and Penelope up ahead, Penelope tucked into Luis’s side, his arm around her shoulders.

Lance remembered when they got married, almost seven years ago now. It was just before he left for the states and just after...well, let’s just say he cried a lot at that wedding.

“So,” Lance started, turning to look at Keith, “what do you think? Honest opinion.”

Lance could see the gears turning in Keith’s head as he mulled over his answer. They were truly alone for the first time since landing, and Lance had to know. He felt a bit like a kid offering their parents cookies after baking for the first time, eagerly scanning faces and awaiting praise.

“I like your family,” Keith said finally. “They’re a lot, that’s for sure, but I like them.”

“It’s not too much?” Lance asked, holding his breath.

“No, never too much,” Keith said, looking at Lance with those soft eyes of his. The warm sun of the beach and the white sand made the deep blue look like a bright violet.

Lance felt a genuine grin break over his face, and he slung an arm over Keith’s shoulder, warmth pooling in his belly. “Well, good. Because you haven’t seen the half of it.”

Keith elbowed him in the side, and Lance shrieked as he squirmed away.

“And here I thought we were having a bonding moment!”

Keith laughed, running backwards down the beach. “Race you back!”

Lance felt like his face was going to break from the force of his smile. “Oh, you’re so on.”

 

\---

 

Despite what Keith said, Lance definitely won.

Of course, being the first one in from the beach meant that Lance got the full brunt of his mother’s wrath.

“ _¡Comó te atreves a traer tus pies con arena cuando la casa está limpia! ¡Te críe mejor que eso Alejando!_ ”

Lance winced and cast his eyes to the ground. “ _Lo siento, Mami_.” He peered up through his lashes, trying his best to look guilty.

“Ah,” his mamá said, whacking him on the side of the head gently. “I can’t stay mad at you. Just, go rinse off and get ready for dinner. We’re eating early tonight.”

Lance smiled, grabbing Keith’s hand and dragging him back out to the porch to the little spout.

“Dude,” Keith said, drawing Lance’s attention away from where he was trying to rinse off his feet.

“What?” Lance asked, genuinely perplexed.

“You and those...those puppy-dog eyes! She looked like she was ready to murder you, and then she didn’t!”

“Well,” Lance said primly, “being the youngest, the art of the puppy-dog eyes is a finely honed talent and my greatest weapon.”

“You can say that again,” Keith muttered, and Lance noticed the barest hint of a blush. But that must have just been from being out in the sun.

God, Varadero looked good on Keith. His cheeks flushed a healthy pink, and the sunlight played with his hair, making Lance realize that it wasn’t just black like he’d always thought, but in fact, it had an almost dark purple hue. And his eyes.

Let the record show that Lance would always, _always_ be willing to wax poetic about beautiful eyes, but with Keith’s, Lance was downright Shakespearean. They were mostly a dark indigo, something Lance had never seen before, but in the right light, they were a beautiful grey. Varadero made them violet.

“What?” Keith asked. “Why are you staring at me?”

Lance startled, realizing that he had left the spigot on while he stared straight into Keith’s eyes. So, he did what any sane person would do.

“I wasn’t staring at you.”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh.”

Lance elected to ignore the skeptical tone in Keith’s voice in favor of turning off the water and grabbing one of the old sun-bleached beach towels by the door. He offered one to Keith, and he wordlessly took it, drying his own feet.

Lance wasn’t even sure why he had been staring at Keith. Because he _was_ staring. Keith had always been attractive, despite all the whining Lance did about his haircut. It would have been ridiculous if Lance hadn’t noticed, but it usually didn’t bother him like this. Was he really still jealous? He thought he had gotten over that a long time ago, when they had put their rivalry aside.

Well, he figured, that was a problem for Future Lance. Current Lance could smell the absolute culinary bliss coming from inside the house, and he was dying to finally get some of his mother’s cooking.

“C’mon,” Lance said, gesturing Keith inside, “I think Mamá made _ropa vieja_.”

“Oh,” Keith said, and he gave Lance a wolfish grin, “so I’m finally going to see what it’s actually supposed to taste like.”

“Yeah, Mamá makes the best--hey!” Lance yelped. “I’ll have you know, mine is pretty darn good. Even Hunk says so.”

Keith laughed, loud and bright as he moved into the kitchen. “You’re the one saying that it never tastes right.”

“Well, I don’t hear you complaining when you eat half of it in one sitting,” Lance grumbled.

Lance looked up to see his mother standing at the stove, smiling at the two of them, a twinkle in her eye.

“You look like you had fun,” she said as she started ladling out the food into serving dishes. “What do you think of Varadero, Keith?”

Keith smiled at Lance’s mother. “It’s very beautiful,” he said, looking straight at Lance. “I like it here.”

Lance felt something warm settle in his belly. He loved Cuba with his whole heart, and he couldn’t help but feel like he made the right choice in inviting Keith here, even with the slight con he had to pull on his own family. His mamá looked positively radiant as she glanced between the two.

“You’ll have to come back and visit, then,” Mamá Ramirez said, returning to her task. “Maybe for _your_ wedding, Alejandrito.”

“Mamá!” Lance said, unable to help the warm flush that invaded his cheeks.

“Oh, too soon?” his mother asked innocently, but Lance was onto her. Oh, he was an idiot for thinking he’d be able to stave off her nosy and intrusive nature just by bringing home a significant other.

“Much too soon,” Lance said, and he tried to signal to his mother that this topic was off-limits.

“Fine, I won’t say anything,” Mamá Ramirez said, turning back to the stove, “as long as you help me set the table.”

“Done,” Lance said immediately, moving to the cupboard to pull out the plates.

“No, Alejandrito, the nice dishes, in the china cabinet,” Mamá said gently.

Lance looked at her in surprise. “Grandma’s plates? You sure?”

His mamá nodded, not taking her eyes off her cooking.

Lance let out a breath. It wasn’t every day that his mother got out the good plates. They belonged to his paternal grandmother, and it was some fancy New England china, bought way back in the 1700s or something. All Lance knew was that he was not allowed to so much as look at the china cabinet when he was younger.

Lance had only seen them used once, the night Luis brought Penelope home as his fiancée. Lance had broken one of the plates anyway, but he swore it was an accident. He guessed his mother forgot about the whole thing, then, if she was trusting him to set the table with them.

“And Lance,” his mother said, and Lance looked up to see his mother giving him a glare that should have vaporized him on the spot. “Don’t break anything."

Lance gulped and nodded, rushing out of the kitchen and around the corner to the dining room, Keith in tow.

“So I guess your penchant for breaking dishes isn’t anything new,” Keith said as Lance opened the cabinet.

Lance rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Tease me all you want, I know I’m not the one who broke Shiro’s favorite mug.”

Lance couldn’t help but snicker as he remembered that fateful day when he, Keith, Hunk, and Pidge had all been huddled in Shiro’s small apartment, Lance and Keith having just found out they had both gotten into the grad program. Long story short, there had been alcohol involved, and Keith had made the poor decision to use Shiro’s favorite mug that said “Space Dad” while highly intoxicated on mango pineapple vodka. Lance had never seen Shiro so angry.

“Shut it, Ramirez,” Keith said, “or should I tell your Mamá about that time you were so high you tried to jump off the roof?"

“I still maintain that I had unlocked the powers of flight,” Lance said primly. “But you better not tell my mother. She still thinks I don’t know what weed is.”

“Honey, you’re not fooling anyone,” called Mamá Ramirez from the kitchen, and Lance could actually feel the blood draining from his face.

Keith took one look at him and burst out laughing. “You-” he tried to say between peals of laughter, “your face!”

Lance grumbled, his embarrassment at war with Keith’s contagious laughter. “Laugh it up, fuzzball.” He turned back to the cabinet, pulling out a stack of plates and placing them on the table.

“Your mom is awesome,” Keith said, once he had stopped laughing enough to help Lance.

At that moment Veronica entered the dining room. “What, did Mamá start roasting Lance again?” Veronica asked even as she was helping Keith and Lance put plates down.

Keith sniggered a little. “Yeah, she did,” Lance shot him a glare.

“Yeah I did!” Mamá Ramirez shouted from the kitchen, leaning over the counter to place the serving dishes on the bar. She gave Veronica a high-five.

“Glad you’re all having fun at my expense,” Lance said.

Veronica grinned. “You know it.”

“I told you,” Keith said, moving around Lance in a fluid and familiar dance, “I came exclusively to tease  you in front of your family.”

“You’re in good company,” Veronica said.

“Okay, I get it, it’s Make Fun of Lance Day,” Lance said, placing his hands on his hips. “Now, can you please help me finish setting the table?”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “It’s always Make Fun of Lance Day.”

Even as she said that, she pulled out the silverware and made her way around the table. That was just how their family ways--bickering and poking fun, but still everyone came together to help out. There was a time when they didn’t have much--they still didn’t, but they appreciated everything they did have. Sometimes, you’d have to yell at your siblings to bring their laundry downstairs, but everyone understood the value of a helping hand.

In no time at all, the table was set and the smell of his mother’s cooking was wafting up and filling the place with the smell of home. Invariably, the siren call of Mamá Ramirez’s _ropa vieja_ drew in the rest of the Ramirez.

Soon, there was the scraping of chairs on the floor, the chatter as Lance’s cousins, siblings, and aunts and uncles sat around the table. Lance made sure Keith was to his left, between him and Veronica, whom he seemed to get along with, despite her trying to give him the shovel talk earlier.

Next to Veronica was her fiancé Mark, who looked distinctly more uncomfortable than Keith. It shouldn’t have made Lance excited, but he couldn’t help it if he was a little (read: a lot) competitive.

A hush fell over the table as they all joined hands. Lance clasped Keith’s in his own, laughing a bit when he tried to intertwine their fingers.

“Pancake’s fine, Mullet,” Lance muttered quietly so no one else could hear.

A pretty flush made its way up Keith’s cheeks, but nobody else seemed to notice as they all bowed their heads.

“Lance, would you lead us?” his mother asked gently, and Lance’s heart swelled.

“Si, Mamá,” Lance said with a smile, and Marco, who was to his right, squeezed his hand.

The prayer rolled familiarly off his tongue. “ _Bendice esta comida en nuestros cuerpos, Señor, y déjanos albergarte en nuestros corazones. Oramos en el nombre de Jesús, Amén_.”

“Amén,” chorused the people around the table.

“Amén,” Lance heard Keith say quietly.

They made the sign of the cross, and that was all the sign they needed to dig in.

Plates were passed in an elaborate dance, Spanish and English requests adding to the general din, and if you wanted something, you had better just grab it.

Lance didn’t even think before passing Keith dishes, and Keith didn’t hesitate in heaping them on his plate, the two trading with each other in practiced motions. They’d been doing this dance for years at this point. Lance and Hunk had come up with the idea of doing "family dinners" during their sophomore year, taking turns cooking every week. Eventually, Pidge joined in and, after some prodding, Lance had invited Keith as well. Before they knew it, the weekly meals had become something of a tradition, one Lance and Keith had done their best to continue after graduation.

Lance didn’t have Hunk’s insane talent, but he wasn’t as disastrous as Keith. Somehow, Keith’s cooking talent only showed itself around a campfire, but with a real stove? He was hopeless. So Lance made dinner, Keith did the dishes, and occasionally, Hunk came over with leftovers.

But they always made a point to eat together at least once a week. It had become a staple in their lives, and Lance couldn’t help but feel like it was one of the reasons he hadn’t had a complete mental breakdown. It made the apartment a home for Lance, and it forced Keith to slow down and remember to take care of himself.

“Lance, could you--”

“On it,” Lance said, tossing Keith a roll. Keith caught it with a smile and put it on his plate.

Lance barely moved his hand before Keith handed him the salt shaker.

Meanwhile, Lance could see Mark struggling a little bit. He clearly wasn’t as well-versed in the dishes, but Veronica just took his plate and heaped on a smattering of everything, but nothing too fancy. Mark looked at her gratefully, and Lance nodded approvingly. It was evident that despite his discomfort, Mark was eager to be a part of it all, just clueless. He depended on Veronica to help guide him, and Lance knew from many phone calls that the reverse was true as well. Good.

The table settled down into the kind of quiet that only comes from good food, and Lance began to practically inhale everything on his plate. He had been home for several hours now, but this was the first time he really felt it. Warmth and satisfaction settled in his belly, and it took no time at all before his plate was empty. He reached a fork towards Keith’s plate, hoping to mooch off of him. Keith elbowed him for his trouble, but not before Lance had scooped up a bunch of the tender spiced beef.

“Paws off,” Keith said, shielding his plate with his arm. “Get your own.”

Lance pouted and Mamá Ramirez laughed.

“Good to see you haven’t changed all that much, Alejandrito,” his Mamá said, smiling fondly, passing him more of the black beans.

Lance took them gratefully and piled them high on his plate.

“Me? Change? Never,” Lance said.

“You’d be surprised,” Keith said, and Lance paused in his quest to ingest all of the food in Cuba to look at him.

“Huh?” Lance asked intelligently.

“You’ve actually changed a lot,” Keith said, blowing Lance’s mind in his normal, matter-of-fact manner. “You’re a lot calmer than when I first met you. More settled. Less likely to start a fight with me for no good reason, anyway.”

Lance felt a blush rise in his cheeks.

“Yeah, I’d much rather start a fight with you for more important reasons, like defending my honor in MarioKart,” Lance said, trying to deflect as he felt several pairs of eyes on the both of them.

Marco nodded sagely. “Very important, that.”

Keith chuckled. “Sure.”

Lance shrugged and resumed eating.

“So,” Penelope said, “I’ve been meaning to ask--how did you two end up getting together?”

Lance tried not to panic with a mouth full of food, but he and Keith had agreed that Lance would take point on stuff like this. Keith wasn’t exactly keen on the explaining the elaborate backstory Lance had come up with about how Lance wooed Keith with rose petals and candles and his good looks.

But, it seemed, Keith decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Well, it’s kind of funny actually. I didn’t really...expect it,” Keith said. “We were just sitting in the living room watching a movie.” Lance’s eyes widened. This wasn’t even close to the story they had come up with. What was Keith doing?  

“We were going to go out and celebrate finishing a major paper,” Keith continued, “but neither of us really felt like leaving, so we just stayed in. We weren’t doing anything special, but I looked over at him and decided at that moment that I was going to kiss him.”

Lance remembered that night. They had both finished a joint project for Professor Smythe, some ridiculously hard paper that had taken every ounce of energy from them. They were going to go down to the bar with a couple of the other students, but both of them got home and just passed out, waking up when they were supposed to leave. He and Keith had decided to eat ice cream and watch Pacific Rim. It was a great night, one of Lance’s favorite memories, actually. He hadn’t thought Keith remembered.

But more than that, he remembered looking over at Keith, a bit of chocolate on his lip, thinking he’d very much like to kiss it off.

Lance shook himself out the memory and tried to look like he’d heard it all before, like this wasn’t a very real moment for a very fake relationship.

“Yeah, and I wowed him with my superior kissing skills,” Lance said, hiding behind his usual bravado.

“Are you joking?” Keith asked, though there was a fond smile on his face as he said it.

Lance elbowed him in the side, and Keith dodged as best he could.

“Well I think that’s sweet,” Penelope said.

“What can I say? We’re adorable,” Lance said, grabbing Keith’s hand.

And some evil Pidge-shaped gremlin must have possessed him at that moment because he leaned over and gave Keith a kiss on the cheek.

It was just a quick peck, but it was long enough for Lance to realize that Keith had really soft skin, to smell the faint scent of his spicy shampoo.

Keith’s whole face flooded with a pretty pink, and Lance gave him a sheepish smile, trying to convey with his eyes that he was really sorry for doing that without warning.

“Okay, it’s official,” Marco said, “you two are disgusting.”

“Believe me,” Lance said, just a hint of bitterness seeping into his voice, “We’ve been called a lot worse.”

The table got quiet, even the little ones sensing that someone had stepped too far.

Marco blanched a little, and Lance almost felt bad for letting him flounder. “I swear I didn’t mean it like that.”

Lance shrugged, but held Marco’s gaze. “I know you didn’t, but realize that even in this family, there are some people who would.”

Lance’s mother leaned in and took Lance’s other hand.

“I know I joked about Tio Ricardo, but know that I and everyone else at this table has your backs. We won’t let anyone harm you, not here.”

Lance looked around and saw everyone nodding in agreement, and he felt his heart swell. He remembered coming out, the way he cried to his mother, begging her forgiveness and the forgiveness of God. His Mamá had lifted his chin, looked him in the eye, and said, “ _Dios the hizo, y Él no comete errores. Tú tienes más amor que dar y no es problema de nadie, mientras tú sepas quién eres y que Dios te ama, todo estará bien._ ”

Lance’s eyes filled with tears at the memory, but he felt the gentle squeeze of Keith’s hand.

“Thanks, Mamá. It means a lot,” Lance said, once he trusted himself to speak.

Another silence settled at the table, this time, filled with unconditional love and support.

“Well,” Mamá Ramirez said, clapping her hands together, “if everyone’s done, why don’t we clear the table and get cleaned up.”

Keith began pushing his chair back. “I’ll help,” he said, though Lance could see the exhaustion around his eyes.

“No, no,” Mamá Ramirez waved him off. “You and Lance have had a long day, why don’t you both turn in for the night?”

Lance couldn’t help but slump gratefully in his chair. “Oh my god, thank you.”

He stood up, grabbing Keith’s arm and leading him out of the dining room.

“Thank you for a lovely dinner, Mrs. Ramirez!” Keith called as he followed Lance through the family room.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t stay and help clean up?” Keith asked, looking back.

Lance shook his head. “Nah, she’ll just put us to work tomorrow instead. Besides, I don’t think she trusts me with those plates.”

“If you say so,” Keith said, but Lance could tell that he was still hesitant. He could see the dark circles starting to form and the tired slump of his shoulders, so Lance didn’t feel so bad about making Keith actually stop working for once in his life.

“I do say so. No offense, man, but you look exhausted.”

“Thanks,” Keith said, rubbing his temples as they climbed the stairs. “Just what a guy wants to hear.”

Lance chuckled. “There’s a reason they call me Loverboy Lance--I’m quite the charmer.”

Keith sighed. “I know nobody calls you that, but I don’t even have the energy to make fun of you for it at this point.”

Lance pushed open his door, and Keith collapsed right on the bed, closing his eyes.

“Uh, dude?” Lance asked, opening his suitcase. “You gonna, I don’t know, get in your pajamas? Brush your teeth? Wash your face?”

Keith groaned and pulled a pillow over his face.

“Well, I’m gonna go get changed,” Lance said, grabbing his pajamas and toothbrush. Keith gave him a little wave, face still covered by the pillow.

Lance turned and made his way to the bathroom. He supposed he’d have to get used to changing around Keith or the family might get suspicious, but for now, he could avoid the typical “am I comfortable enough to be mostly naked around this person” dance. And also avoid the awkward instance where he would, inevitably, check Keith out.

It was honestly getting to be a problem. The few instances where Lance had happened to be awake when Keith was showering after his mornings at the gym, he had nearly drooled. There may have also been a broken cereal bowl involved.

When Lance had first met Keith, yeah he noticed Keith was attractive, but he could almost be considered tiny. Over the ensuing years, Keith had really grown into himself, emotionally of course, but especially physically. His shoulders were now broad, his jaw just a little bit squarer. It was a subtle difference, but let the record show that Lance had always had a weak spot for the Dorito physique.

By the time Lance was done with his nighttime routine, he had stopped panicking so much about seeing Keith changing. Instead, as he looked in the mirror at his boxer and t-shirt combo, he began panicking about something else entirely.

He walked back into his bedroom, and stared down at the bed. Keith had managed to get changed as well, but he was only wearing pajama bottoms, no top, and Lance decided that he probably needed to take cold showers all this week. Luckily, Keith’s eyes were closed, so he couldn’t see Lance’s face journey as he grappled with the issue at hand.

For some reason, the prospect of sharing a bed with Keith made Lance’s heart race. What was his problem? He’d shared beds with friends before. He’d snuggled with Hunk more time than he could count, and on one road trip he’d shared a bed with Pidge. Hell, he’d even slept with Shiro!

Well, not _slept_ slept, but still. If he could share a bed with Shiro with minimal embarrassment, why was sharing a bed with Keith so daunting?

Whatever, he needed to bite the bullet and just do it.

“Move over, Mullet,” Lance said as he yanked at the covers with a bit more force than necessary.

“Mmm,” Keith said, barely cracking an eye before turning over and burrowing under the sheets.

Lance climbed into bed after him, plugging his phone in and settling in.

Normally, Lance listened to music before bed, but he had forgotten to pack his comfy headphones. He didn’t feel like bugging Keith, so he just lay there, trying his best to get comfortable. He was hyper-aware of every move he made, and he could feel the heat radiating off of Keith. He had a feeling it would take him a long while to fall asleep.

 

\---

 

The next thing he knew, Lance was waking up in his bed the next morning, He was warm and oh-so-sleepy still. His brain was fuzzy, and he smelled a comforting kind of spice along with the familiar smells of his home.

Lance burrowed further into the sheets, snuggling closer to the veritable furnace that surrounded him.

Wait.

Lance’s eyes snapped open as he realized he was basically cradled in Keith’s arms.

Okay, okay. He could handle this. He wasn’t freaking out. He woke up in Hunk’s arms all the time. He _wasn’t_ freaking out.

Except he very much was. This was vastly different from waking up to Hunk’s comforting hugs. Hunk was round and squishy and basically engulfed Lance. Keith was all muscle, and good lord, Lance had to resist the urge to run his tongue up Keith’s bare chest. He was staring right at the well-defined pectorals, and it wasn’t good for his health. Morning wood he could brush off easily, though it was still mortifying--but he didn’t think Keith would forgive him if he woke up to Lance fondling his chest.

Lance took a steadying breath, which turned out to be a mistake as he breathed in a heady smell that could only be Keith. Shit, even his sweat smelled sexy. This wasn’t good.

As quietly as he could, Lance extricated himself from Keith’s surprisingly clingy embrace. Much to Lance’s relief, Keith didn’t stir. Lance stood up and surveyed the room, proud of himself for managing to avoid waking Keith up.

Lance grinned as he unplugged his phone. He snapped a couple pictures of the sleeping Keith, who looked insanely cute and innocent with his face relaxed and his hair splayed behind him on the pillow. He captioned one “Rare picture of a Keith who doesn’t want to stab me” and sent it off to their group chat.

He might have saved another one just for himself...

And also set it as his home screen.

It matched his lockscreen--one of Keith and him at the carnival, when Lance had convinced Keith to go on the Ferris wheel with him. They got stuck at the top (Lance thought that Pidge had paid the guy to make it happen, but he’d never been able to prove anything), and all they could see was the Arizona desert stretching out for miles, the stars so clear and bright despite the blinding lights of the games and rides below them. Of course Lance insisted on a selfie, catching one of Keith’s rare smiles on camera.

If Keith asked, he changed it to this lockscreen before heading down to Cuba, and definitely not the instant after it was taken.

Blackmail sent, Lance made his way downstairs, where his brother was at the stove, cooking breakfast.

“ _Buenos días Marco_ ,” Lance yawned, sitting at the breakfast table.

“ _Buenos días_ ,” his brother said, stacking the last of the pancakes and turning off the stove.

 _“¿Por casualidad podrían ser estos míos?_ ” Lance asked, pleading with his big round eyes as best he could while he still had eye boogers.

Marco just rolled his eyes. “ _Solo si tú y Keith se llevan a los peques hoy. Llevo cuidandolos por 4 días seguidos_.”

Lance winced in sympathy. “ _Dale, no hay problema. Iba a llevar a Keith a la playa igual, simplemente los llevo con nosotros._ ”

Marco nodded gratefully and pushed a stack of pancakes towards him.

At that moment, Keith walked in, looking a bit dazed and confused, his hair sticking up adorably.

Wait, no. Not adorably. Dorkily. Adorkably. Ah fuck it, he was adorable.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Lance said, smiling at the still-sleepy Keith. It was honestly shocking to see Keith like that--he was normally up at 6am, whereas Lance slept in until twelve some days.

“Did I wake up in an alternate universe or what?” Keith said, plopping down at the table.

Marco laughed, sliding another plate full of food towards Keith. “Nah, Lance just gets excited when he’s home.”

Keith looked up at Marco like he was the best thing he had ever seen.

“You made me breakfast--can I please date you instead?” he asked.

Lance’s reaction was immediate and visceral. “Et tu, Mullet? I make dinner for you all the time!”

“So? You never make me _breakfast_ ,” Keith said, stuffing his face. Lance really shouldn’t have found that attractive, but there he was.

“That’s because you’re always up at the ass-crack of dawn!” Lance exclaimed, pointing at him with his fork.

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because I actually exercise. You know, that thing where you take care of your body?”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the guy who would eat ramen every day of the week if I didn’t cook for him.”

To anyone else, this might have constituted a fight, but for Keith and Lance it was just another day. Lance could see the corner of Keith’s mouth twitch, and Lance couldn’t contain his smile any longer. He broke out in giggles, and Keith joined in.

“You guys are so weird,” Marco said.

Lance looked up, having forgotten that his brother was standing right there the whole time.

Lance shrugged. “You’re just jealous.”

“Hey, your boyfriend just asked to date me instead,” Marco said, taking his own seat.

Keith gave Lance a wry smile, and Lance did what any mature person would do and stuck his tongue out at him.

Marco shook his head and chuckled. “So, Lance, you still good to take the kids?”

Lance looked to Keith. “How do you feel about going to the beach and entertaining some demon children for a little while?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “I had to babysit Pidge way back in middle school. I feel like I’m pretty well prepared for demon children.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I hope that means yes,” Marco said.

Lance laughed. “Yeah, Marco. That means yes.”

 

\---

 

Lance and Keith finished breakfast and ran upstairs to get changed. Lance practically flew downstairs and put together a beach bag full of towels, snacks, and sunscreen, while Keith followed at a more leisurely pace.

They rounded up Clara, Isa, and Ernesto, and made their way outside. The sun was bright already, the heat radiating off the pavement, but Lance had never felt more energized. They took a path at the back of the house, and soon, Lance was kicking off his flip-flops and digging his toes into hot white sand.

It took everything they had not to let the kids run wild right away, Lance giving them the task of picking out the perfect beach spot. Clara and Ernesto took to it with gusto, but Isa wouldn’t let go of Lance’s hand, even reaching for Keith’s as well.

Keith looked up with a mild expression of panic in his eyes, but Lance gave him a reassuring smile.

“You’re doing great,” Lance murmured, eyes glued to Clara and Ernesto ahead of them.

Keith let out a shaky breath. “Yeah?”

Lance nodded. “Isa doesn’t hold just anyone’s hand, you know.”

That seemed to make Keith relax just a bit, and he gave a fond look to the little kid clinging to him.

Lance looked away quickly, not wanting to acknowledge the racing of his heart. Lance's poor bisexual ass was already having enough trouble spending each night next to a shirtless Keith in bed. Seeing him take to his precious nieces and nephews so well was almost overwhelming.

“Tio, Tio!” cried Clara and Ernesto from in front of them. They were bouncing in place, clearly having chosen their spot for the day.

“Great job, you guys!” Lance said, putting his beach bag down. “You picked a great spot.”

“I picked it!” Ernesto said, puffing out his chest.

“No, I did!” Clara said.

“Nuh-uh."

“Yeah-huh. 

“Nuh-uh.”

“Okay,” Lance interrupted, “can whoever picked out the spot help me set up the blanket?”

Suddenly, neither Clara nor Ernesto wanted to claim the credit.

Lance contained a smirk. Worked every time.

He dug into the beach bag, pulling out the old striped picnic blanket that was sun-bleached and pilled with age.

“Come on, _chiquitos_ , my helpers get an extra special treat,” Lance prodded.

That got even Isa’s attention, and the kids ran over, fighting over corners of the blanket. Lance tried his best to do some damage control, but it was utter chaos until Keith stepped in. They settled the blanket down on the ground and put their stuff at the corners to keep it from flying up in the salty ocean breeze.

The kids immediately kicked up sand, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed, especially as they babbled at him in Spanish, asking for their presents.

Lance sat down on the blanket and reached in the bag.

“Okay, but your mom would kill me if I forgot to put sunscreen on you, so you gotta do this first.”

Ernesto whined, and Clara pouted. Isa didn’t say much of anything, but Lance thought that was mostly due to her plopping down next to Keith and tugging at his hand again.

“But Tio, you promised,” Ernesto said, and Lance had to use every ounce of energy not to give in to those big round eyes.

“I know, but if you come back with a sunburn, I won’t be able to take you to the beach anymore,” Lance said, pouring some sunscreen in his hands and holding them out to Ernesto.

Ernesto gave him a pout, stomped his foot, but he moved towards Lance.

Lance sighed in relief and rubbed sunscreen everywhere he could reach. He had made the mistake of missing a part of Ernesto’s legs one day, and he still shuddered to think about what that mistake had cost him. You only got yelled at by Penelope once.

Clara eventually let herself be given the same treatment, her nose scrunching up adorably as he put sunscreen on her ears.

When Lance determined she was all good, she turned and ran off to play in the sand.

Lance held out the sunscreen to Keith, who took it after a moment of hesitation.

“Do you mind getting Isa? She trusts you,” he said.

Keith nodded, and Lance watched as his brows furrowed in concentration. He poured way too much in his hands, and Isa squirmed a bit, but Lance could safely say Isa would not be at risk of sunburn anytime soon.

“Nice job, Mullet,” Lance said, taking the bottle from him.

Isa giggled and said, “Mullet!” pointing at Keith.

Lance was sure his grin split his face.

“Oh, come on!” Keith said, throwing his hands up.

“Haha, Mullet!” Isa said again, and Lance couldn’t help the laugh bubbling up from his belly.

Keith narrowed his eyes and poked Isa gently on the nose. “You, little lady, are on my list.”

“Oh, I knew you were my favorite,” Lance said, grabbing Isa and tickling her belly until she squirmed and giggled.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to pick favorites,” Keith grumbled, but Lance saw his smile.

Ernesto and Clara chose that moment to reappear, each covered nearly head to toe in sand. How they left enough for there to still be a beach, Lance would never know.

“Tio, you said if we helped you we’d get a surprise!”

Lance sighed, making it out like they asked him for the hardest thing in the world. “I did, didn’t I? I guess I have to give them to you…”

Lance dug into the bag and pulled out four little plastic water guns. The kids gasped and Clara immediately went for the purple one. Ernesto grabbed the green one, and that left the red and the blue for Lance and Keith.

“You guys go be careful filling these up, okay?” Lance said, knowing that Ernesto and Clara knew the rule about only swimming with an adult. They were both pretty accomplished swimmers, practically having been born in the water, but Lance needed to make sure.

Clara and Ernesto nodded, and they raced to the water.

Lance, still keeping an eye glued to the two kids, pulled off his shirt, uncapped the sunscreen, and began applying. He made sure to get his ears, nose, and the tops of his feet, but then the inevitable happened.

“Keith, you mind getting my back?”

Lance’s heart raced in his chest as Keith met his gaze. Lance knew he was supposed to be watching the kids, but at the moment, he couldn’t see anything but purple.

“Yeah, sure,” Keith said softly, and he took the bottle from Lance’s hand, their fingers brushing.

Lance pretended he didn’t feel the buzzing in his fingertips run up his arm. He turned around, eyes dragging as they broke away from Keith’s, and he looked out towards the water. Clara and Ernesto were in eyesight, carefully filling the water guns and in no apparent danger, so Lance had nothing to distract him from the feeling of Keith’s surprisingly gentle hands rubbing sunscreen into his back.

Lance shuddered, and all kinds of thoughts raced through his brain.

 _No_ , Lance thought, _Keith’s just a friend. You just haven’t gotten laid in a while, that’s all this is_.

It seemed like forever and no time at all had passed when Keith leaned back.

“Done,” he said, and if Lance didn’t know any better, he could have sworn Keith sounded a little breathless.

“Want me to do you?” Lance asked, turning back around.

“What?” Keith asked, eyes widening.

“Uh,” Lance said, a little confused, “you want me to do your back?”

“Oh,” Keith said, “um, yeah, sure.”

He pulled his black t-shirt off, yanking from the collar. Lance tried not to let any expression pass on his face as Keith’s abs were revealed, but he was only human after all. Keith turned away from Lance, displaying his well-muscled back.

“Get it together, Ramirez,” Lance muttered.

“Did you say something?” Keith asked, turning around and meeting Lance’s gaze.

“Oh, uh,” Lance scrambled to think of something besides the fact that he was about to rub sunscreen all over a very hot, very muscular boy. “Your hair,” was what he landed on.

“What about it?”

“It’s in the way,” Lance said, and he reached into the beach bag and dug around at the bottom until--”Aha!”

Lance triumphantly held up a hair tie, and before he could think too much about it, he began gathering Keith’s hair into a low ponytail. Keith started in surprise, but didn’t object. Lance ran his hands through the surprisingly soft strands and tied it off.

“Thanks,” Keith said, turning his head and flashing Lance a quick smile before facing forward once again.

“No problem, my dude,” he replied.

Lance turned away, his face flushing red as he berated himself.

_‘My dude,’ really Lance? Might as well clap him on the back and tell him ‘no homo.’_

Lance busied himself, fiddling with the cap of the sunscreen. Why were his hands shaking? He took a steadying breath, willing his hands to still as he poured the sunblock into his hands. Methodically, he began rubbing Keith’s back.

He was hyper aware of every muscle moving under Keith’s skin, and Lance was forced to swallow down every dirty thought racing through his brain. He decided instead to focus on making sure every inch of Keith’s back was protected. He was awfully pale, even for him. It probably had something to do with the fact that they spent most of their time in the library nowadays. Oh, the glamorous life of grad students.

Lance reached around to make sure he got Keith’s sides--a rookie mistake for many tourists--when Keith squirmed.

“Hey!”

“Relax, Mullet. I’m almost done!” Lance said, reaching for his sides again.

A laugh bubbled out of Keith, and Lance felt a smirk unfurl across his face.

“Keith, are you...ticklish?”

Even from his poor vantage point, Lance could see the bright red flush creeping up Keith’s neck and face.

“No!”

Because Lance really couldn’t leave well enough alone, and because of his experience as one of the youngest children, he couldn’t resist the urge to just--

Keith shrieked, jumping as far away from Lance as he could.

“Lance!”

Lance ignored the death stare Keith was giving him in favor of reaching out to poke him again. “Come on, Keith, we don’t want you to get sunburn.”

Keith jumped up with surprising dexterity, holding out his arms in a defensive position. “Lance, don’t you dare.”

Suddenly, Lance darted out, and Keith bolted, making for the ocean.

Lance laughed, grabbing Isa and the last two water guns, shouting a battle cry before running after him.

Shrieks of laughter and little giggles punctuated the air as Clara and Ernesto joined in their fight, all of them splashing about in the waves. A feeling of contentment settled over Lance, and he found that he couldn’t stop smiling.

 

\---

 

The next few hours passed quickly, only the movement of the sun and the exhaustion of their limbs giving away the passage of time. Soon, they were sprawled out on the blanket, towels draped around their necks, basking in the warm sun.

Eventually, Lance figured it was time to get everyone back to the house. Of course, it took longer than it should have to pack everything up and herd the little ones away from the water, but by some miracle, they reached the back porch without too much difficulty.

Luis and Penelope met them by the back door, picking up the kids to minimize the amount of sand that inevitably was going to find its way inside the house. Keith and Lance rinsed off briefly and headed into the blessedly cool air-conditioning.

Mamá Ramirez was already in the kitchen, working on what looked like enough food to feed an army.

“Hey, Mamá,” Lance greeted, shutting the door firmly behind him and Keith. “We’re back.”

“Hey, how was the beach?” she asked, turning to them with her signature smile on her face. It fell slightly before she burst into giggles.

“Well, it looks like Keith enjoyed himself at least. Did you forget sunscreen?” she asked.

Lance turned to Keith and his eyes widened. In the sun, he hadn’t really noticed, but now that they were inside, he could see the tell-tale beginnings of an intense sunburn covering Keith’s face, chest, shoulders, and even his arms.

“Oops?” Lance said, shrugging. Naturally tan, Lance didn’t often burn, and he sometimes forgot to reapply. He guessed that would be a serious problem for someone as pale as Keith, though.

Mamá Ramirez shook her head and moved to rummage in the fridge. She turned back, shoving a bottle of aloe at Keith. “I put this in the fridge when Marco told me where you guys went. I think you’re going to need it.”

Leave it to Maria Ramirez to think of everything. Lance thanked his Mamá and ushered Keith upstairs and into his room.

“So, who’s gonna shower first?” Lance asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Keith, though red in the face, smirked.

They both brought their hands out in front of them, right hands fists hovering above their outstretched left hands.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” they said in unison.

Lance threw up paper, anticipating Keith’s rock.

Much to his dismay, Keith did not, in fact, use rock.

“I win,” he said, and Lance groaned.

“You cheated!”

Keith scoffed, a sparkle in his eye. “You say that every time you lose.”

It was true. When they had become roommates, they inevitably had started butting heads again over stupid stuff--which way the toilet roll went (it’s over, obviously, and Keith just likes to court chaos), whose turn it was to take out the recycling, and, of course, who got to take showers first.

Eventually, they both had decided that the petty fights would need to be resolved in a mature fashion--rock, paper, scissors. And the number one rule: respect the winner.

“Fine,” Lance grumbled. “Go have your stupid victory shower.”

Keith grinned, grabbed the towel that Lance had gotten for him, and made his way to the bathroom.

Lance heard the _click_ of the door, and his whole body relaxed.

Sure, the day passed quickly, but Lance couldn’t help but think of all the times he saw Keith laughing with abandon, smiling as Isa cuddled up to him, grinning evilly as he got a hold of one of the water guns and got Lance right in the eye.

And, of course, Lance couldn’t help but think of the feel of silky smooth skin beneath his hands as he rubbed sunscreen on Keith’s back.

He groaned, wishing he could flop back on his bed without getting sand in his sheets. Lance ran a hand through his hair nervously. This was getting to be a problem, and he couldn’t talk to any of his family about it because he was _supposed_ to be crazy-attracted to his boyfriend. Except Keith wasn’t his boyfriend and none of them could find out.

In desperation, Lance dug around for his phone, quickly pulling up Hunk’s contact.

 

**Lancey dance pants**

_I have made a huge mistake_

 

It barely took a minute before Hunk responded.

 

**Hunky dory**

_??!!??!_

_What happened???????_

_Did keith try to threaten your uncle with a knife???_

 

**Lancey dance pants**

_...you know thts not a bad idea_

_but no_

 

Ugh, wait. No, why was Lance doing this? He shouldn’t be bothering Hunk when he was interviewing. Besides, it wasn’t really a big deal. Honestly.

 

**Lancey dance pants**

_nvm its stupid_

 

**Hunky dory**

_Nuh-uh. We’re not doing this again_

_What’s wrong?_

 

Lance sighed. He opened this can of worms. Hunk wouldn’t stop until he knew exactly what was bugging Lance.

 

**Lancey dance pants**

_tbh its so stupid but i forgot how hot keith is_

 

Lance waited in dread for Hunk’s response. He had been there for the whole “rivalry” bullshit, and one particularly memorable (or, in Lance’s case, not-so-memorable) night, they had gotten piss drunk and Lance had confessed that part of his anger at Keith had a little something to do with how attractive Keith was. Lance had no recollection of this, but apparently he was very adamant about how much he wanted to kiss the stupid scowl off his stupid face.

Evidently, not much had changed.

 

**Hunky dory**

_Oh. That._

_I hate to break it to you but you never stopped thinking he was hot_

_You’ll survive_

 

**Lancey dance pants**

_but he’s playing with the kids hUNK!!!_

 

**Hunky dory**

_Oh yeah, you’re screwed_

_Uh oh gotta go have coffee with the department ttfn!_

_You’ll be fine!_

 

Lance sighed, locking his phone. Well, that was no help at all.

At that moment, Keith came into the room, towel slung around his waist, hair still dripping wet from the shower.

Lance’s eyes caught on a single droplet of water that was making its way down Keith’s neck, his shoulder, down his chest…

“Lance,” Keith said, and Lance’s eyes snapped up to Keith’s. “I said, shower’s free.”

“Oh. Right,” Lance said, jumping up and grabbing his own stuff running into the bathroom with alarming speed. He really needed to get his shit together.

After a much too long shower, wherein Lance contemplated exactly the kind of trouble he had gotten himself into, Lance went through his usual moisturizing routine. He bustled back into the room, getting dressed quickly. He turned back to see if Keith was okay and saw that he had fallen asleep. He had only managed to put on his sweatpants, no shirt to be seen, but Lance winced. The sunburn was worse than he thought, already smarting a bright red.

He hated to have to do this, but he shook Keith awake.

“Hey, Keith,” he said, and Keith mumbled something, turning over. “Keith, you’ve got to get up. We gotta take care of that sunburn before it gets worse.”

Keith blinked awake. “Huh?”

Lance let out a soft laugh. “Your sunburn. Why don’t you put some aloe on it, and I’ll run and get you an advil and some water.”

Keith nodded sleepily sitting up. Lance handed him the bottle of aloe and headed downstairs, dodging family members and nosy cousins, getting a couple glasses of water and the bottle of ibuprofen, and running back up.

He opened the door and saw Keith with the aloe, wincing as he intently rubbed aloe in.

“Oh, no, Mullet, don’t--” Lance started, flinching every time Keith’s face twisted with pain.

Lance quickly set the water down, sitting beside him on the bed and pulling the bottle gently from Keith’s hands.

“You’ve gotta be more gentle or you’re going to make it worse,” Lance said softly.

Keith looked up and met Lance’s eyes. His brows were knit in confusion. “I know how to put on lotion, Lance.”

Lance chuckled. “Clearly you’re out of practice.”

Keith pouted and crossed his arms. Immediately, he winced.

Lance took pity on him, handing him the advil, and poured aloe into his hands. “Here, let me,” he said.

Keith eventually relaxed, uncrossing his arms and holding one out. Lance, as gently as he could, began to rub the cool gel in.

Keith flinched, but eventually let Lance work his magic. Lord knew Lance had plenty of practice. Between poor Pidge who burned if they walked outside for more than two seconds, and little cousins who were unfortunate enough to inherit the pale McClain complexion, he’d seen his share of nasty sunburns. Had a couple, too, on a handful of notable occasions.

But this was decidedly different from helping Pidge, or his cousins, or even himself. Somehow, helping Keith, sitting with him shirtless on his childhood bed, felt so close and intimate that it made Lance’s heart race like he’d just run a marathon. More than the original sunblock moment, more than waking up cradled in Keith’s arm. When had he become so attuned to Keith’s every move? When had he started to notice the hitch in Keith’s breath when he slid his hands up to work on Keith’s shoulders?

Methodically, focusing only at the task at hand, Lance worked gentle fingers on the lobster red skin, taking extra care on Keith’s sides. Keith tensed when Lance reached for his ribs, but he didn’t squirm.

All too soon, Lance had finished, and he looked up, a quiet “all done” on his lips, but the words caught in his throat.

Keith was staring at him with those indigo eyes of his, and they weren’t just violet. They were so, so dark, and Lance swore he could feel himself fall into them. They looked like the very galaxies he studied--dark and sparkling and oh so celestial.

It felt like Keith was staring right into Lance’s very soul, studying and _looking_ , and for once, Lance didn’t want to look away. Time felt as fragile as spun glass, and he didn’t dare move, not even to breathe.

Keith leaned the barest bit forward, and Lance drew in a breath. For just an instant, he thought he saw Keith’s eyes flicker to his mouth.

But that couldn’t be and he couldn’t have this. Keith was his friend--one of his best friends, actually--and he wasn’t about to ruin that just because of a little eye contact.

Lance pulled back, and the moment shattered.

“There,” he said, breathlessly. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, a strange note in his voice. “Thanks.”

Lance hopped up and moved to the other side of the bed, rolling so he was facing Keith.

“Now it’s nap time,” Lance said lightly, trying to diffuse the weird tension still in the air.

Keith huffed a laugh and gingerly laid back down, careful of his sunburn still. “I’m glad you finally deemed me okay enough to sleep.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Trust me, you’re going to be grateful when you wake up and your skin isn’t on fire and peeling off.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re the sun expert or whatever.”

Lance felt his eyes drifting closed, weighed down with the exhaustion of the day. “You know it.”

 

\---

 

Veronica woke the both of them up, pounding at the door with a yelled “Dinner’s ready!”

Keith was the first awake, shoving at Lance’s shoulders until he grumbled and wiped the sleep from his eyes.

“Come on, Ramirez. I’m starving,” Keith said, jumping up and gingerly pulling on a soft shirt.

Lance dragged himself out of bed, pausing just a second to fix his sleep-rumpled hair, and he followed Keith out of the door and downstairs to the dining room, where everyone was just finishing setting the table.

It didn’t take long before Lance was fully awake, chattering away to his relatives and Keith, and dinner passed in a pleasant blur of good food and good company. Now that Keith had met most of the family, he was much more animated, and Lance was happy to see that Mark had finally joined in the conversation as well. Although, it was not without its perils.

At one point, Mark asked Marco how to teach him how to say, “please pass the rice” in Spanish and Marco replied with, “ _Tengo tres pezones en mi trasero_.” It took every ounce of self-control Lance had not to laugh outright.

Mark turned to Maria then, opening his mouth to repeat the phrase but Keith held up a hand. “Actually, Mark, try, _‘Por favor el arroz_.’ It’s a bit...easier to say.”

All conversation at the table came to a screeching halt.

“Oh, come on Keith!” Marco said, throwing up his hands in defeat. “I totally had him!”

Lance just grinned like Christmas had come early.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise!” Mamá Ramirez said, delight evident on her face. “I had no idea you spoke Spanish, Keith.”

Keith blushed and looked down at his plate. “I had to learn in high school, and I took a couple classes in undergrad. My pronunciation is really bad, but I can understand a little.”

Lance's smile turned a bit smug, pride over Keith's Spanish tilting the corners of his mouth up.

He still remembered vividly the day Keith had come to him for help, standing in the doorway of his and Hunk's dorm, an essay assignment clutched tightly in his hands, a sheepish look on his face. Keith had practically thrust the paper in Lance's face and asked if he could help, though the question came out sounding more like he was being held at gunpoint. Lance had been tempted to say no, and he had been ever more tempted to pettily give him the incorrect answers. But something about Keith in that moment, maybe his slumped shoulders or his downcast eyes, had made Lance reconsider. Keith wasn't there to start a fight or make fun of Lance, he had genuinely come for help.

So, Lance had opened the door and let Keith in, probably for the first time since they had met.

They had still continued to bicker after that, but it held much less heat than before. Lance realized Keith wasn’t infallible, and that maybe, just maybe, he was human like the rest of them.

Keith hadn’t pursued Spanish after sophomore year, but Lance was pretty sure that was because of the shittiness of the program and not any fault of Keith’s.

Lance put a reassuring hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I keep telling you, Mullet, your pronunciation is fine. Just a bit…American.”

“Aw, thanks, babe,” Keith said, and despite the mocking tone, something in Lance seized at the pet name. He tried not to remember exactly how good that word sounded coming from Keith.

The rest of dinner passed in a flurry of cousins and siblings asking Keith various things in Spanish, most of which just elicited looks of confusion, but he would try his best to respond, and Lance didn’t even try to stop the fond look he knew was plastered on his face.

Part of him had felt more than worried about his worlds colliding. He hadn’t been sure how he would feel seeing someone from one home come into another, the one that meant so much to him. But Keith took to it like an old pair of shoes. Yes, it was worlds colliding, and yes, it was almost overwhelming at times. Yet, Lance didn’t want to flinch away or hide. Keith made him feel like he could be proud of his family and proud of his decision to leave. Not everyone understood how he could be so rooted in a completely different country, yet want to spend his life elsewhere.

After dinner, Lance and Keith helped clean up, and Keith, despite Mamá’s best efforts, insisted on doing the dishes. Eventually, she managed to shoo him away from the sink, and Lance ushered him upstairs.

“Go on, I’ll help Mamá finish up,” Lance said. “Besides, you need to re-apply aloe if you don’t want to look like a lobster tomorrow.”

Keith didn’t put up much of a protest, probably sensing that Lance wanted a moment with his mamá. He nodded, moving into the living room and up the stairs, laughing with Vero over something Lance couldn’t hear. It wasn’t until they had disappeared from sight that Lance realized he had been staring after them. He shook himself out of his daze.  

Lance stood with his Mamá, drying the dishes and handing them over so she could stack them in the cabinet.

It was peaceful, for once. It had already been a bit late when he and Keith had woken up, and by the time dinner ended, it was time for the kids to go to bed, and most of the cousins had cleared out to their own homes. Marco was still up, and Lance could hear the TV going in the background, but there wasn’t the usual chatter.

“You picked a good one, Alejandro,” Mamá Ramirez said finally, and Lance looked over. “Keith’s a very nice young man.”

Lance laughed lightly. “I sure didn’t think so at first.”

Mamá Ramirez regarded him thoughtfully. “That’s because he doesn’t let you get away with your nonsense. He challenges you.”

Lance thought about it. Mamá was right, as usual, but that kind of incisive comment sliced right to the heart of exactly what he didn’t want to examine. Keith _did_ challenge him. At first, that was a problem, considering that when they first met, everything challenged him. He had had trouble figuring out what was meant maliciously and what was the honest truth.

But Keith had always been blunt, and while that had once made Lance bristle, now it was one of the things he admired most about him. He never minced his words, never hesitated to plainly state what his problem was.

“Yeah, I guess he does,” Lance said, after a moment. Even now, Keith stood his ground, asking Lance tough questions about his work, challenging him to do better, to be better.

“Oh, _mijo_ , I’m so excited to see the man you’ve become,” Mamá said, coming up and hugging Lance tightly. “You’ve made the most of what you’ve been given, and now you’re going after your dream, and you’ve got someone right there with you. That’s more important than you know.”

Lance melted into her embrace. Even as the small pang hit his heart, knowing that Keith wasn’t really his, his mamá wasn’t too far from the truth. He did have Keith, even if it wasn’t quite in the way his Mamá had meant it. They were there for each other. Somehow, he and Keith had made it into one of the toughest astrophysics programs out there, and they survived it together. Regardless of hearts skipping beats and lingering glances, they’d always have that.

“I know your father would be so proud of you.”

A single tear made its way down Lance’s cheek, and he hugged his Mamá tighter.

After a long moment, Lance stepped back. His Mamá held his face, brushing away the tears with a gentle thumb.

" _Lo extraño tanto_ ,” Lance said.

Mamá gave a watery smile. “ _Yo también, mijo._ ”

They stood there in the kitchen, clinging to the memory of Lance’s father, feeling his absence more than ever.

“Now,” Mamá Ramirez said finally, clapping her hands. “No more tears for tonight. I’ve got a present for you.”

She turned and opened the cupboard where they usually kept all the cleaning supplies. For half a second, Lance thought she was going to give him a toilet brush and make him scrub the bathroom, but then she gave an excited “ha!” and handed Lance a glass bottle.

Lance’s eyes widened as he looked at the label. “Mamá?”

“It wasn’t easy, keeping that safe in the house,” she said, closing the cupboard behind her. “I had to hide that from Marco. You know how much he loves it.”

“That explains the cleaning supplies,” Lance muttered as he stared at the bottle of real Cuban rum. “Mamá, this is the good stuff.”

She gave a knowing smile. “Okay, I’m going to bed, and if you ask, I have no idea where you got that.” She turned and walked out of the kitchen, stopping briefly in the living to kiss a dozing Marco on the head before venturing upstairs.

Lance was still standing in the kitchen, stunned, staring at the bottle of liquor. Then, a grin slowly spread across his face. He supposed he could have saved it, brought it home, but there was plenty of time to go get more. He had a much better plan for this.

 

\---

 

“Keith!” Lance whisper-shouted, waking Keith up for the second time that day.

“The fuck is your problem, Lance?” Keith growled, pulling the covers up over his head.

“Keith, come on, you napped earlier,” Lance said, poking at where he thought Keith’s stomach must have been. “I’ve got something you’re gonna want to see.”

Keith shoved the covers off, and Lance tried not to laugh at how his hair stuck up in all directions. “What do you want?”

Lance just held up the bottle of rum, shaking it a little. “Time for an adventure.”

Keith looked between the bottle and Lance’s shit-eating grin. Lance held his gaze expectantly. If he knew anything about Keith, he knew he’d give in in 3...2...1…

“I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

Lance’s grin widened. “Nope. This is the last chance before the wedding craziness sets in. Now, put on some clothes and meet me downstairs!”

Lance didn’t even wait for Keith’s answer as he bounded quietly back down the stairs, sneaking past a sleeping Marco who was sprawled in front of the TV.

He slipped out the back door, breathing in the gentle ocean breeze, grinning up at the stars.

Sure enough, in two minutes, Keith met him, closing the door quietly behind him, and Lance set off down the path towards the beach, following the siren call of the gentle waves.

The beach was different at night. It was spectacular during the day, of course, but after the sunset, it became downright magical.  The moon was bright, shining almost like a flashlight down on the beach, illuminating the white sand and playing off the waves. Everything was quiet except for the crash of the ocean.

Lance led Keith a bit of the way down the beach, plopping down in the sand, sticking the bottle of rum between them.

He let the silence settle comfortably around them, just listening to the familiar sound of the waves beating against the shore.

Eventually, Lance spoke. “You know, this was always my favorite part.”

“Getting drunk on the beach?” Keith asked, and Lance didn’t even bother looking over because he knew Keith was giving him that small smirk of his.

“We haven’t gotten drunk yet, Mullet,” Lance reminded him. “No, I mean this.” He gestured widely at the empty beach. “When everyone else goes home and it’s just you and the waves.”

Keith let the quiet stretch on a bit longer before responding, but Lance didn’t mind.

“Thanks for sharing this with me,” he said finally.

Lance looked over. Keith was leaning back onto his hands, his feet buried in the sand in front of him, and he was staring out into the dark horizon.

Lance jostled Keith’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks for appreciating it.”

Keith looked over at that, and the two shared a fond smile.

“Now, we should probably get drunk before we get any sappier,” Lance said, cracking open the bottle. “That way, we can blame it on the alcohol.”

Keith grinned and grabbed the bottle from Lance’s hands, taking a healthy swig before handing it over. Keith coughed a bit into his hand, grimacing, and Lance laughed. “Okay, your turn.”

Lance brought it to his mouth, trying not to think about the fact that it had just touched Keith’s lips, and tipped it back. The liquor went down smooth, the burn of the alcohol just as he remembered. “Oh yeah, that’s the good shit.”

He winked at Keith, who shook his head.

“I still don’t understand how you can drink that straight,” Keith said.

“You just need to learn how to handle your liquor,” Lance said primly, taking another swig. Man, this stuff was good. He passed off the bottle.

Keith took it, taking another sip and grimacing again. “You know, on some level, I can tell this is quality rum, but all the rest of me is just screaming.”

Lance grinned. “That’s because it’s still rum.”

They passed the bottle off a few more times, the warmth of Varadero and alcohol settling in their veins. The otherwise quiet night was punctuated by giggles and playful teasing, and Lance let everything else fade into the background. All the noise, all the worries, all the stress of the past semester settled into a dull blur. He was home, he was with his friend, and he was happy.

Lance was just tipsy enough to turn his head and grin at Keith and say, “You’re probably my best friend, you know.”

Keith looked up, his head whipping around so fast, Lance couldn’t help but giggle. “I thought Hunk was your best friend.”

“Yeah, well he is, and he probably will always be my best friend. But you get me, Keith. Hunk’s a good friend and I love him, but you and I, we’re…” Lance searched for the right word. “We’re partners,” he settled on finally.

Keith’s mouth was hanging open a bit, and Lance suddenly worried he took things too far. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. But it’s not like he said anything that wasn’t true. His Mamá’s words were swimming in his head, about having someone who was there with him through it all.

“And don’t worry,” Lance said, looking back out at the water. “You don’t have to say anything back. I know Shiro’s yours.”

“Lance,” Keith said, grabbing at Lance’s hand so suddenly that he nearly lost his balance while sitting. Lance looked up. “You’re my best friend, too.”

Lance couldn’t stop himself from tackling Keith in a hug, barely avoiding knocking over the rum in his semi-drunken state.

Keith huffed out a sigh that was both exasperated and fond as Lance squeezed him tighter, trying to convey just how much that meant to him.

“Thanks, Keith,” Lance said, finally letting go and settling back down on the sand. He took another sip of rum.

“It’s the truth, I don’t know why you’re thanking me,” Keith said, taking his own sip. “Yeah, Shiro’s like a brother to me, and he practically raised me, but it’s like you said. We’re partners.”

“To space ranger partners!” Lance said, raising the bottle of rum.

“To space ranger partners,” Keith echoed softly, holding onto the bottle as well.

 

\---

 

Twenty minutes later, and they were both absolutely _sloshed_.

Keith was in the middle of telling some ridiculous story about Shiro trying to flirt with Adam, and Lance was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Did he really-- _hic_ \--ask him if he was wearing space pants?” Lance giggled, so drunk he was hiccupping.

“Yeah,” Keith said, waving the bottle of rum dramatically. “He wanted to tell him that they were out of this world, but Adam just started talking about the kinds of pants astronauts wear and why they’re made like that.”

Lance’s laughter kept getting interrupted by the hiccups, but that didn’t stop him. “That-- _hic_ \--sounds worse than the time I tried to-- _hic_ \--ask Stacey out by asking her if she-- _hic_ \--wanted to recreate the Big Bang.”

“It was!” Keith yelled, falling over on the sand. “He looked so heartbroken that he didn’t get a chance to use his line. But he and Adam were already dating!”

Lance flopped down next to him, and his laughter faded as he looked up at the stars. He traced out constellations without even thinking, their patterns carved like riverbeds in his mind.

“Hey, Keith?” Lance asked.

“Hmm?”

“Why astronomy?”

Lance stretched his head to look at Keith, who had reached his arm out as if to touch the stars. “I’m not sure. I guess...with everything in my life, all the changes, all the foster homes...I wanted something permanent. I look up and no matter where I am, and it’s always the same sky.”

Lance hummed.

“What about you?” Keith asked, catching Lance’s eyes.

Lance swallowed, the alcohol making him unable to stem the tide of emotion welling up in him.

“My dad,” he said thickly, the words unstuck for what might have been the first time in his life. “He used to take me out on the beach, so far we couldn’t see the lights from the city, and point out all the constellations. He had this telescope that used to be my grandfather’s, and he used to tell me stories about him. Everyone else got bored of hearing them, but I never did. I just wanted to know more.”

Lance tried to look up at the sky, but all the stars began blurring together. “The day he died...I--”

The tears were flowing for real this time, and Lance didn’t bother stopping them.

Lance felt Keith tug his hand, slowly entwining their fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze. There was no expectation, just support, and it was enough for Lance to find the courage to go on.

He took a shuddering breath. “The day my dad died, I thought I’d never be able to look up at the sky again without crying. But now...now I just remember how much it meant to him, to _us_ , and I just feel close to him again.”

Tears were streaming down Lance’s face in earnest now, but it felt good to cry. It felt good to let someone else know exactly the reason he always wanted to touch the stars.

Keith’s hand wrapped tighter around his own, and when Keith next spoke, Lance could hear the thickness in his voice.

“My dad was a fireman,” he said. “He was a real hero, and good at his job. I thought I wanted to be just like him when I was little.”

Lance stayed quiet, just letting Keith hold his hand, understanding so fundamentally the pain of past tense.

“But one day, somehow our house...I’m not even sure how it happened. They said someone left the stove on, but I don’t remember...he came back for me. He got me out, but it was the smoke that got him in the end.”

Lance didn’t say anything. He knew how little “I’m sorry” actually meant. He just let the sadness wash over them like the waves, breaking and gentle but incessant in their crashing.

“Alright, well,” Lance said after a moment, sitting up and ignoring the sand in his hair. “I think I’m done feeling sorry for myself. To the dead parents club!” He raised the bottle of rum again and took a healthy swig.

“Lots of cheers tonight, I guess,” Keith said, but he followed suit, sitting up and taking the bottle. He took another sip, his grimace less apparent.

His movements were sloppy as he raised the bottle to eye level, looking at the not-so-insignificant dent they made in the rum.  “You know, we probably should stop drinking this.”

“Why? Are we driving?” Lance said, and then he burst out laughing.

Keith started laughing as well, the pain from two minutes ago not forgotten but pushed aside in favor of bubbly, drunk camaraderie.

Lance looked over and met Keith’s sparkling gaze. It felt good, being here with him. With Keith, he felt like he was being his whole, authentic self.

“Your eyes,” Lance blurted out before he could stop himself.

“What?” Keith asked, his laughter stopping abruptly.

“Yesterday, you asked what I was staring at. Your eyes, they’re purple.”

It was dark but the moon was bright, and Lance swore he saw Keith blush. “People don’t have purple eyes, Lance.”

Lance shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you. They’re purple.”

Keith stared at him a long moment before laughing again. “Okay, we really gotta stop drinking this stuff.”

Lance grinned but replaced the cap, screwing it tight.

“Alright, fine. No more rum for Alejandro,” Lance said, his speech starting to slur. His “r”s rolled lazily off his tongue.

They sat for a few more moments, but the moon had begun to set, and Lance figured it was time they get to bed. If he knew Veronica, she’d have them running around doing last-minute wedding errands all day.

He got up, clumsily brushing sand off himself. He held out a hand, and Keith took it. He pulled up, stumbling with the force of it, and Keith careened into him. By some divine intervention, they didn’t fall, but Lance was left with an armful of drunk Keith. He gazed into the indigo eyes once again, and Lance realized he would never get tired of trying to figure out what color they actually were. Now, they were so dark in the fading moonlight that they almost looked black, reflecting the midnight sky.

Keith gave a sheepish grin and pushed off, and despite the humid air, Lance missed his warmth instantly.

He soon forgot all that, though, because Keith grabbed his hand, swinging it between them as they headed home, the sand making their already stumbling steps all the more unsteady. The walk was short but the rum was strong, and before they knew it, they found themselves stumbling through the backdoor.

Lance tried to shush Keith, and Keith tried to shush Lance, but with all the shushing, they hadn’t realized what a ruckus they made. The kitchen light flicked on and they both flinched. Marco stood there with an unimpressed look on his face, and Lance and Keith burst into giggles.

“Okay, lovebirds, off to bed,” Marco said, grabbing the bottle of rum from Lance’s hand.

“Don’t drink that, you stinker,” Lance said, pointing an accusing finger in his brother’s direction. “That’s mine.”

Marco shook his head and shoved the two drunk boys towards the stairs. “Go, and don’t wake up the kids.”

Lance harrumphed, but he and Keith stumbled up the stairs as gracefully as they could given the circumstances. Lance nearly fell over trying to pull on his pajama pants, but somehow he managed it before tumbling into bed.

This time, Lance pulled Keith close, tangling their limbs. He gave him a soft kiss on the forehead.

“I’m glad you’re my best friend, Keith,” he muttered before being pulled into sleep’s soft embrace. Huh. It felt oddly like Keith’s.

 

\---

 

Lance woke first again, which would have been strange except for the fact that his arm had fallen asleep. He tried to move, to shake off the static pinpricks, but something heavy stopped him.

He opened his eyes, blinking awake in the soft light, staring straight at Keith’s signature mullet. Over the course of the night, Keith had nestled himself right into the curve of Lance’s body, pressing into him with all the enthusiasm of an experienced little spoon. Lance was already warm from their shared body heat, but this realization caused a whole other kind of heat to crash right into him.

All his limbs still felt heavy, and he was starting to get pulled back into the jaws of sleep when a loud pounding at the door set off the incessant pounding in his head.

“Wake up, Lance! It’s all hands on deck, and you need to be ready to go in fifteen minutes!” Veronica shouted, and Lance groaned.

Dear god, had she always been that loud?

Next to him, Keith stirred, covering his eyes and moaning.

“A dwarf is inside my head, pounding my skull with a hammer,” Keith said, grumbling.

“Big ass mood,” Lance said, turning over and pulling his arm free and throwing it over his face.

“Can we just...not exist anymore?” Keith asked.

“You might get away with it, but I’ve got to help my sister. The wedding’s tomorrow,” Lance said slowly.

Veronica’s words hit Lance, and he knew she was serious about the fifteen minute thing. He gingerly turned on his side and pushed himself up. Immediately, the world started to spin and the little bit of light that seeped into the bedroom felt brighter than staring into a thousand suns.

But if there was one thing he dreaded more than a hangover, it was his sister’s wrath, so, Lance pushed up, shoving the nausea down, moving to his dresser and pulling out a comfy shirt and a pair of shorts.

Keith groaned but got up as well, stumbling a bit as he pulled his own outfit out of his bag.

Lance was too hungover to care about the fact that Keith was changing, shirtless next to him. All he cared about was stopping the pounding in his head. He found an old pair of sunglasses, the kind you get free at a carnival, and shoved them on his face.

He turned to Keith, who gave him a half-hearted thumbs up. Lance nodded solemnly.

“To battle,” he said, and he took a breath before opening the door.

The light hit him like a freight train, but he bravely forged on, and he and Keith slowly stumbled down the stairs.

“Remind me to never drink rum with you ever again,” Keith groaned.

“Gonna be a little hard at the wedding, my friend,” Marco said, sidling up to the two of them with a smug grin on his face.

“Fuck off, Marco,” Lance grumbled.

“Oh, poor Lancito. Can’t handle your liquor?” he mocked, tackling Lance.

Lance was too busy shoving down a new wave of nausea to retaliate. Luckily, Veronica decided to step in.

“Leave him alone. I need him upright so he can help me,” she said, and she escorted Lance and Keith to the kitchen, shoving plates of eggs at them.

“Bless you, Vero. Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite sibling?” Lance said, and he dug in.

Veronica smiled wickedly. “You won’t be saying that by the end of the day. Now eat, get hydrated, and be ready to leave in ten. You’re coming with me.”

Lance couldn’t even bring himself to complain. Veronica was acting fine, but he knew his twin well enough to sense that she was about two minor mishaps from spiraling into an inescapable panic.

He looked at Keith, who was smiling over at Isa in her high chair and talking to her in the little bit of Spanish he knew. He looked so soft and fond, even with the hangover.

“Mullet, you good to stay and watch the kids while I go with Vero?” Lance asked, finishing his breakfast and taking his and Keith’s plates to the sink.

Keith continued to play with Isa, making her giggle. Lance’s heart melted. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. Won’t we, Isa?”

“Mullet!” she shouted, clapping her hands and giggling.

Keith rolled his eyes, but Lance saw the smile on his face.

“Let’s go, lesbians!” Vero shouted from the front door, and Lance put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, squeezing.

“If you need anything, just text me. Mamá should be running between here and abuelita’s if the kids give you any trouble.”

Keith smiled up at him. “Thanks, Lance.” He tilted his head and nuzzled a bit into his arm before shoving Lance off.

Lance felt like he was moving on auto-pilot. His sister ushered him out the door with an impatient wave of her hand, and he followed, but his brain had totally ceased to function. Keith had just...nuzzled him? His Keith. Keith Kogane, the socially awkward boy who didn’t understand how cheers worked, just showed casual affection in a way neither of them had planned.

Damn, Keith was good.

Upon reflection, this whole week so far had been almost too easy. It was so simple to fall into these patterns with Keith. All their friends (though mostly Pidge) would always say they were halfway to being married anyway, but Lance hadn’t really believed it before.

Now, however, Lance was hit with the realization that his entire family was convinced that he and Keith were dating. Sure, they gave no reason for them to doubt it, but they honestly hadn’t had to do much that was so different from how they just were. There was the extra hand holding and a notable cheek kiss, but still.

“You alright there, Lance?” Veronica asked as she pulled out of the driveway and onto the street.

“Yeah,” Lance said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. Because we’ve got a lot of work to do,” Veronica said, and she handed Lance a list that made his head spin. It was a good thing he loved his sister, because he was about ready to kill her.

They spent a significant portion of the morning running around doing last-minute errands. They picked up Vero’s dress with its final adjustments, got the napkins and placemats, and dropped off the wedding favors for assembly at their cousin’s house. By the time they pulled into the driveway, Lance was about ready to collapse.

“I will never _ever_ get married,” Lance said, hopping out of the jeep and moving to the back to help Veronica with all the boxes.

Veronica smiled knowingly. “You say that now, but I see the way you look at Keith. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Lance pouted, trying not to let his surprise show on his face. He’d better play this cool. He knew he’d been lusting after Keith, but he had hoped maybe his whole family hadn’t seen _that_. “It’s not my fault my boyfriend’s hot.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Vero said, rolling her eyes. “You look at him like he hung the stars.”

Lance felt his face flush. Well, this conversation was not going where he thought it was. It was veering into dangerous territory, and Lance was too exhausted to deal with any of these implications right now.

“Whatever,” Lance said breezily, hauling a box up and starting for the front door. “You’re getting married tomorrow. Shouldn’t you be the one waxing poetic about your S.O.?”

“But teasing you is so much more fun,” Veronica said, bumping him gently with her hip.

Lance rolled his eyes and walked through the door. The house was in complete chaos, tulle everywhere, flowers littered on every surface, and the loud clamor of a large family trying unsuccessfully to coordinate an assembly line.

Luckily for Lance, Veronica snapped back into wedding mode and directed him to set the boxes down on the coffee table. A few others hopped up to grab the rest of the stuff from the car, and Lance found himself trying to dodge rogue family members as they bustled around, adding unnecessary finishing touches to centerpieces.

He managed to nearly upend a tray of rose petals, earning dirty looks from several aunts, including Tia Elena, who he swore was trying to set him on fire with just her eyes.

“Lance, honey,” came the familiar call of his mother from underneath a pile of lace. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get ready for the rehearsal dinner?”

Lance nodded, eager to get out of the way lest he do more damage.

He bolted upstairs, more than relieved at having escaped the wedding chaos. Let the record show that Lance would do almost anything for his sister--except arrange bouquets. He approached his bedroom door, slowing down when he heard voices. He lifted his hand to knock but paused when he heard his name.

“--nce might pretend that he’s this smooth, unaffected guy,” came Marco’s voice, steely cold,  “but you should know, he’s always been a romantic. He’s gotten his heart broken too many times to count, and I need to know you’re not going to be the one to do it again.”

Lance took in a long breath. Goddammit, Marco. He’d always been a bit...overprotective. It might have had something to do with the fact that after Lance came out, his first boyfriend...well, let’s just say he wasn’t an upstanding guy. It wasn’t the first time he’d been cheated on, and unfortunately not the last, but it was definitely the worst. He remembered Marco finding him sobbing on the side of the road, his brother’s eyes like fury.

But that was years ago. Lance had long since learned how to take care of himself. He certainly didn’t need his older brother trying to intimidate one of his best friends.

He moved to open the door, ready to interrupt a completely unnecessary shovel talk when Keith’s voice stopped him.

“There’s no chance of that, I promise.”

Of course there wasn’t. He and Keith weren’t even dating, so there was nothing to worry about. Marco couldn’t scare Keith off because there was nothing to be scared off from---but there was something about Keith’s tone that kept Lance from opening the door and ending the conversation entirely.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Marco said. “You know, I’ve never heard him talk about anyone the way he talks about you.” Lance flushed, embarrassed at having been called out like that, but his brother continued. “He really looks up to you. If you do anything, and I mean _anything_ that even comes close to breaking that trust--”

“Let me stop you right there,” said Keith, and Lance was taken aback at the fervor in it. “This isn’t a one-sided thing. As much as Lance looks up to me, I probably admire Lance twice that amount. You and I both know he worked his ass off to get where he is, and I can honestly say he’s one of the smartest, kindest, most selfless people I know.”

Lance couldn’t move if he tried. The blood roared in his ears. But Keith forged on.

“That he invited me here? That he trusted me enough to share his family with me? It means the world to me. I love your brother. Don’t insult me, or Lance, by insinuating otherwise. I’m not asking you to trust me--you hardly know me. But trust Lance to know what he needs. I know I do.”

Lance had stopped breathing. His head spun, and he felt like he was about to collapse. If Keith really felt this way, that meant---

No. He didn’t mean it. He _couldn’t_ mean it. They were friends, best friends in fact, but Lance knew that Keith didn’t love him, not like that.

Keith was good, Lance would give him that. He managed to shut Marco up, and for just a moment, Lance was convinced too.

That revelation was enough for Lance to shake himself out of the stupor he found himself in. He plastered on a smile, knocked, and opened the door without waiting for a response.

“Lance, you’re back!” Keith said, beaming. Lance’s heart skipped a beat at that, but he ignored it.

“Hey, Lance,” Marco said.

Lance gave Marco a hard look. “You weren’t trying to scare my boyfriend off were you?”

That word felt heavier than it ever had, and Lance had to pretend that his tongue hadn’t stumbled over it.

“Just talking with him, is all,” Marco said breezily.

Lance looked to Keith who shrugged and said, “Yeah, it’s all good.”

Lance believed him. He had half expected Keith to look shaken, maybe a little in shock at having to tell his brother he loved Lance. But no. No, in fact, Keith looked almost calm.

That sealed it for Lance. There was no way that he could say that, mean it, and be able to stand there like nothing had changed.

Lance brushed aside the deep, sinking feeling of disappointment. That was something he was determined to leave unexamined.

“Well, Mamá said to get ready for the rehearsal dinner,” Lance said, already feeling fatigued from the overly positive face he was trying to maintain.

“Okay, okay, I get it. You need some time alone with the b-f,” Marco said, moving out of the room with a wink. “I’ll leave you be.”

He closed the door with a pointed _click_.

Keith snorted in amusement, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to join in like he would have even five minutes before. The last thing he wanted right now was to be left alone with Keith.

Keith, whose very presence made him feel dizzy. Keith, who was now looking at him with those wide, beautiful eyes that took everything in. Keith, who had just said that he _loved him_ and hadn’t meant a single word.

“Lance, is everything alright?” Keith asked, his brows knitting in concern.

Lance looked away. Keith knew him well enough at this point that if Lance dared meet his gaze, he would see right through him into the internal turmoil that had been brewing since even before they got on the plane.

So Lance refused to look at him, busying himself digging through the closet for the shirt he had set aside for the dinner. “Yeah, of course. Just tired.”

Even turned away, Lance could feel the full force of Keith’s skeptical stare burning into his back.

After a long moment, Keith sighed. “Okay.”

Lance needed time to think. The thoughts were buzzing around in his head, feeling like a radio searching for a channel, all noise.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said abruptly, and before Keith could even begin to respond, Lance bounded out the door and across the hall.

He closed the door and leaned against it, trying to catch his breath. What was wrong with him?

Nope. No. Not going down that road.

Lance pushed off from the door and turned on the shower as hot as it could go and hoped that maybe it would burn away the memory of those untrue words.

_I love your brother._

 

\---

 

By the time Lance had finished with his shower, he was already pushing late for the rehearsal dinner. Luckily, that also meant that he didn’t have time to dwell anymore on words that Keith did not mean.

He bustled into his room half-dressed, running for the dresser to pull on dress socks, his khaki pants unbuttoned and his pink button-down hopelessly crooked.

Keith looked on in amusement from his bed, where he was dressed similarly in khakis and a white button-down.

“I know, I know, I’m late,” Lance said hurriedly, spritzing himself quickly with cologne and trying to put on his shoes at the same time.

Keith laughed. “Most of the wedding party’s already left. Marco’s waiting on us, and then we’re picking up Tia Elena.”

Lance groaned and nearly fell over trying to pull on his shoe one-handed.

Keith jumped up from the bed and caught him, pushing him back upright.

“You’re fine. We’re not even technically in the wedding, so all we have to do is meet them at the restaurant,” Keith said, smoothing out some of the wrinkles in Lance’s shirt. Unprompted, he also began redoing the buttons.

Lance flushed as he felt Keith’s knuckles brush his belly, and his heart beat loudly in his chest.

“O-okay,” Lance said, his voice breathless and breaking.

“There,” Keith said, brushing his shoulders lightly, hands lingering. “All set.”

Lance couldn’t help but stare at Keith. His pupils were blown wide under half-lidded eyes, and  Lance felt Keith’s breath escape those slightly parted lips. This close, Lance could see they were chapped--of course they were--but they didn’t look any less enticing.

Lance swallowed, and Keith’s eyes flickered down to the bob of his Adam’s apple. The air felt electric, and Lance’s skin hummed as Keith’s fingertips ghosted over the side of his neck.

“Yo, lovebirds, let’s go!”

Lance startled at Marco’s voice echoing up the stairs, and just like that the moment was broken. He snapped back into focus, stepping away quickly and clearing his throat.

“Um,” he said, “thanks.”

Keith gave a wry smile. “Best not keep your brother waiting.”

Lance shook himself, trying to rid himself of the haze of the moment. He reminded himself that Keith was here as a favor to him, that he was his friend.

 _Friend, friend, friend_ , Lance chanted in his mind as they made their way downstairs and out the front door, piling into Marco’s car.

 _Friend_ , Lance said as they pulled up to the restaurant they were meeting everyone else at.

 _He’s my friend_ , Lance said to himself as Keith squeezed in next to him and he noticed every brush of Keith’s hand against his.

 _I love your brother_ , his traitorous mind supplied when Keith interlaced their fingers.

 _There’s no chance of that_ , Lance reminded himself when Keith threw back his head and laughed at some bad joke Luis told in Spanish.

The dinner passed. Veronica and Mark stood up and gave a general thank you to everyone for a successful rehearsal, and Mark’s parents, who had arrived earlier that day, insisted on paying for everyone’s meals. Keith conversed in stilted Spanish with Lance’s cousins, and Marco tried to get Isa to say a bad word.

Lance knew he was being quiet, and he could tell it didn’t go unnoticed. Keith kept sending him concerned looks whenever there was a lull, and Lance barely had the energy to give him a reassuring smile.

He couldn’t help it. His mind kept returning to that last moment in the bedroom--how Keith’s fingers trembled slightly as he did up Lance’s shirt, how Lance’s heart was beating right out of his chest, how Keith’s indigo eyes threatened to swallow Lance whole.

How Lance wanted to let them.

Without knowing exactly what he was doing, he gave Keith’s hand a small squeeze.

Keith looked at him then, and gave him a soft smile. _His_ smile, the one Lance had never seen him use on anyone else. The one he would move heaven and earth to see again and again.

Lance stood up abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor. Everyone at his table stared at him. He tugged his hand out of Keith’s, gave a quick “I have to go to the restroom,” and practically sprinted to the back of the restaurant.

He entered the little one-room bathroom and locked the door behind him. He gripped the sides of the sink as he stared at his own face in the mirror.

He looked frazzled, manic. His hair, which had been artfully disheveled when he left the house now just looked messy. His face was pale and his eyes were wide with fear.

“I’m in love with Keith,” he whispered.

The words were barely spoken, said with the lightest of breath, but Lance felt them ring loudly in his mind, the echoes of what he said shaking his very core.

“I’m in love with Keith,” he said, a little bit louder.

Suddenly, he was transported to every moment, hurtling backwards through the week. Every brush of Keith’s skin against his own, every time Keith stumbled over Spanish when talking with his cousins, every time Keith smiled at Marco’s antics. Every time Keith reassured him that he wanted to be here.

But it was more than that.

“I am in love with Keith Kogane,” Lance said, his voice stronger this time.

He recalled every late night study session, when Lance would inevitably get bored and throw M&Ms at Keith until he gave in and took a break. He remembered all those weekends when they would order takeout and watch shitty Netflix movies until Lance had forgotten how Iverson yelled at him for messing up a simple calculation.

Most of all, he remembered the last date he went on, where he met the girl at one of his favorite restaurants, and all he could think about was how much better it would be if he were there with Keith.

Lance was truly, deeply, and irrevocably in love with Keith Kogane.

“Shit,” he said.

“Lance,” came his sister’s voice from behind the door, “is everything alright?”

Lance reached out with a shaky hand and unlocked the door, pulling it open.

Veronica took one look at him and pushed her way into the bathroom with him, shutting and locking the door behind her.

“Ronnie,” Lance said, and his voice broke. He wrapped his arms around his sister and burying his face in her shoulder.

To her credit, Veronica didn’t hesitate to hug him back. Her hand came up to stroke Lance’s hair, and he took a shuddering breath.

“ _Lancito ¿Qué pasa?_ ” she asked.

Lance pulled back and looked his sister in the eye. “I’ve made a huge mistake.”

“What happened? Did Keith do something?” she asked, looking towards the door with a murderous expression on her face. “I can take him, you know I can.”

“No, Keith didn’t do anything,” Lance said quickly, grabbing at her shoulders to keep her from storming out into the dining hall and making even more of a scene. “At least, not on purpose.”

Veronica’s brown eyes met his, her eyes thunderous. “What do you mean, not on purpose?”

“Veronica,” Lance said, his voice wobbling with emotion. “I’m in love with him.”

His sister laughed lightly. “You’re such a drama queen. Of course you’re in love with him.”

Lance’s chest tightened, and he realized just how much his sister didn’t understand. “I-I have to tell you something…”

By the time he had finished explaining, Veronica looked about ten years older.

“Lance…” she started, and Lance held up a hand.

“Don’t. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought myself. It was stupid, I know. I should have just told Mamá I didn’t have a date. But I wasn’t thinking, and she just sounded so _excited_ and I didn’t have the heart to tell her.”

Veronica gave him a look of understanding, but Lance recognized the hard look in her eyes.

“I love you, you know I do, but you need to pull yourself together.”

Lance nodded. She was right, of course. He had horrible, horrible timing. Only just noticing he’d been in love with his best friend for a whole fucking year, when he was at his sister’s _wedding_? Not cool.

“I’ll manage,” he said. “I’ve been in love with him this long, I can deal with it for another day.”

“You want my advice?” Veronica asked, leaning against the sink. “Tell him.”

Lance balked. “No. No way. I’m not about to ruin a perfectly good friendship because I can’t keep some stupid feelings in check.”

Veronica pushed off the counter and moved to the door. “You’re an absolute fucking idiot, but I’m not about to tell you how to live your life. You know him better than I do. But if you ask me, he’s in love with you too.” She walked out the door, shutting it softly behind her.

Veronica wasn’t often wrong, but he knew she was wrong about this.

 

\---

 

It took Lance a good five minutes after Veronica left to get himself together, but eventually, his heart stopped racing long enough for him to smooth down his hair and give himself a pep talk. He could do this. He’d spent at least the last year, if not two, in love with Keith, and he wasn’t about to let a little self-awareness keep him from enjoying his sister’s wedding.

He walked out into the dining room head held high, and sat back down next to Keith.

Keith shot him a concerned look, taking his hand and rubbing his thumb in comforting circles that left Lance shivering. “You doing okay?”

Lance met Keith’s gaze and gave him a soft smile. “Yeah, fine. Just got a bit overwhelmed.”

It wasn’t a lie, not even close.

And so when Keith gave him a disbelieving look, Lance turned away, unwilling to burden Keith with the truth.

He wasn’t sure when it had happened, when Keith was able to see right through him when his own siblings sometimes couldn’t, but it happened. Keith somehow knew him better than anyone else, and that scared him.

His mind flashed back to that fated conversation, the one he was never meant to overhear.

 _That he invited me here? That he trusted me enough to share his family with me? It means the world to me_.

Keith cut right through to the core of what Lance himself refused to see.

Part of him had always held back a little, with everyone. He felt like he led two different lives. In Varadero, he was Alejandro, one of four, part of a large family, always lovingly obnoxious and a bit of a troublemaker, lost in the stars. In Arizona, he was Lance, the loud, out, and proud boy from Cuba, energetic and excitable, determined to understand the universe.

But the truth of it was, that he actually was both of those boys. Alejandro and Lance. Editing himself, just a little every day, to fit the person others expected to see.

With Keith, however, it was different. With Keith, Lance didn't have to constantly adjust and could simply be himself. Be the boy that rested somewhere in the middle.

He used to think that this had also been the case with Hunk and Pidge, but the truth was, even with them Lance adjusted, edited, and hid away the parts of himself that he didn't like. Eventually, he had fallen into the same trap he always did, relying on those ready-made expectations that kept them from looking too closely.

Yet, somewhere along the way, Lance had let Keith in, deciding that he was the person he wanted to share this part of his life with. Wanted to share himself with. When he had seen Keith playing with Isa, or joking with Marco, or when his mother had smiled fondly at him as she piled more food onto his plate, Lance had felt parts of himself click together that had been separated for far too long.

He wasn't two disparate people, linked by vague and superficial similarities. Instead, he was a kaleidoscope, made up from all kinds of identities, ever changing, ever growing. Beautiful.

It was honestly a wonder Lance hadn’t noticed how in love he was before now.

But, as he told Veronica, he’d been in love with Keith for a long time, and he could handle it.

He was proud to say that he managed to get through the rest of the dinner with minimal freaking out. Sure, now he was confronted with the fact that he knew exactly why his skin felt like it was on fire any time he so much as brushed against Keith, but Keith also seemed to sense that Lance needed a little bit of space.

By the time they made it back to the house, Lance was exhausted. He barely made it through his nighttime facial routine, his every motion on autopilot. His thoughts raced around, but they didn’t have anywhere else to go, and eventually they kept repeating the same thing.

_I’m in love with Keith I’m in love with Keith I’m in lo--_

He and Keith climbed into bed, and Lance turned, his back to Keith. Now that he knew, waking up entangled like they had been made so much more sense. There was no way he was going to make Keith uncomfortable just because his subconscious didn’t get the unrequited memo. It had only been luck so far that he had woken up before Keith could notice that Lance couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

Tonight, though, he was determined to stay on his side of the bed, far, far away from Keith.

It took him a long time to fall asleep.

 

\---

 

When Lance woke up the next morning, his back was still to Keith, but somehow he had flung and arm behind him, his fingertips just brushing Keith’s.

He took a breath and rolled out of bed, shaking Keith’s shoulder.

“Come on, Mullet, it’s go time,” Lance said, and Keith sat up, his hair as awry as it always was when he just woke up. Lance tried not to think about how he now knew this fact so intimately.

They both made their way downstairs where Mamá Ramirez had set out breakfast at the table. Luis, Penelope, and the kids were still eating, but Lance had no doubt his mom and sister were already up and working on last minute preparations.

“Hey, Luis,” Lance said, yawning and taking a seat, Keith following suit. “Ronnie gone already?”

Luis nodded. “Yeah, Marco took her to the church about twenty minutes ago. She was freaking out about a nonexistent pimple or something, so I think it’s going well.”

Lance snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“So what are we supposed to do today?” Keith asked, piling food on his and Lance’s plates.

“You, Mullet,” Lance said, “get to sit back, relax, and enjoy the extra long Catholic wedding ceremony. I, on the other hand, have the pleasure of being an errand boy.”

Luis rolled his eyes. “You mean an usher.”

“Sure.”

Keith gave a small, frustrated huff. “Seriously, is there anything I can do to help?”

The guilt in his voice didn’t escape Lance’s attention. Keith was probably feeling a bit useless, and Lance knew Keith well enough to know he didn’t do well with that.

“Actually,” Lance said, thinking fast, “if you don’t mind hitching a ride with Luis and meeting me at the church later, you can help do the dishes and tidy up around here.”

Keith practically sagged with relief. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Lance tossed Keith a grateful smile. “You’ll be Mamá’s favorite, that’s for sure.”

“Am I not already?” Keith asked, wry smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Lance laughed. “You might be, Mullet. You might be.”

 

\---

 

Lance somehow made it to the church on time, winding his way to the room where his sister was getting ready. It was early yet, so she was still in her bathrobe, but her hair was styled, and his cousins were bustling around her, doing her makeup.

“Teresa, you better not be using that ridiculous sparkly eyeliner I told you not to get,” Veronica said, her eyes closed as their cousin Teresa worked her magic.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied, and Lance stifled a snort as she tried to subtly grab a different pencil.

“Knock, knock,” Lance said, entering the room fully.

“Lance! Thank god,” Veronica said, practically leaping up from her chair. “I need you to run down to the guys and make sure they got their boutineers. And then check on Mamá and make sure she’s not crying in the bathroom again. Oh, and grab the other bottle of champagne from where I hid it behind the vase next to the side entrance.”

Lance saluted. “You got it, _‘manita_.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur, Lance running back and forth, passing messages, hugging crying parents, directing lost relatives. Honestly, he was grateful for the distraction. When he was trying to spray a whole can of hairspray at his sister’s head, it was easy to forget the earth-shattering revelation that shook him so deeply yesterday.

It was easy to forget that he was in love with his best friend.

Eventually, it was time, and Lance was sent out to help people to their seats.

He greeted the guests by the doors of the church as they arrived, pointing them down the aisle, or escorting them if they were a bit more on the geriatric side.

Lance had a good view of the road and walkway beyond the doors. He could see the seemingly endless stream of cars pulling off into the parking lot, and the equally as endless mill of people filing into the church.

Everything seemed to blur by quickly under the onslaught of friends and family. Lance had just finished helping his Tia Elena down the aisle to her seat when he turned and stopped dead in his tracks.

He’d be lying if he said his breath didn’t catch at the sight of Keith walking in.

He trailed behind Luis, carrying Isa in his arms. That would’ve been enough to give Lance a heart attack anyway, but then he caught sight of the rest of him.

Let the record show that Keith Kogane wore a suit like no one else. It was a slate grey, the lines sleek and fitted. Simple and elegant. His burgundy button down brought out all kinds of colors in his deep indigo eyes, made all the more apparent by the neat low ponytail. And honestly, Lance couldn’t be blamed for wanting to drag him by his black tie into the confession booth.

Try explaining that to the priest.

Lance shook himself out of his thoughts as his brother approached.

“Luis, Penelope, you made it!” Lance said, giving his brother a hug.

“Somehow,” Luis said, sounding exhausted already. Penelope didn’t look all that energetic either, tiredly taking Isa from Keith’s arms.

Lance held back a wince. He didn’t envy them, sitting through an entire Catholic service with cranky little kids in uncomfortable fancy clothes.

By that point, Keith had walked up to Lance, and Lance’s heart did a backflip.

“Hey,” Keith said, grabbing Lance’s hand and leaning in to give him a brief hug.

Lance was sure his whole face must have looked like an overripe tomato, but he tried to hold it together. He was sure Keith could feel Lance’s racing pulse, could see how much a simple brush of skin against skin did to him.

“Hey,” Lance said, and even to him, his voice sounded breathless.

Penelope cleared her throat, and Lance snapped to attention. He had a job to do, after all. “Right, you guys probably want to sit down. Follow me.”

He led them down the aisle, directing them to a section of pews where Marco was already sitting, the programs reserving their seats for them. He waved them to their seats with a flourish, Keith giving him a small smile that made the butterflies in his stomach flutter desperately.

Luis, Penelope, and the kids all shuffled in, leaving Keith out in the aisle with Lance.

“You going to sit with us?” Keith asked, and Lance recognized the apprehensive note in his tone. He’d honestly been a terrible host, leaving Keith alone with people he didn’t know for almost the whole day. No matter how much Keith got along with his nieces and nephew, it was probably still a little much.

“Yeah,” Lance said softly, squeezing Keith’s hand reassuringly. “Once everyone’s seated, I’ll run up and join you. I’m not about to let you sit through a whole Catholic service by yourself.”

Keith chuckled and ducked his head. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Fine, let me rephrase,” Lance said. “I need you to help entertain me or else I will go insane.”

Keith smiled fondly up at Lance. “I have a feeling that means you’re just going to make fun of my hair the whole time.”

Before he could stop himself, Lance reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Keith’s ear. “You know, I don’t think I can make fun of you, with your hair like this.”

“That’s high praise coming from you,” Keith said, leaning slightly into his touch.

Lance would have honestly spent the whole rest of the day just standing there, revelling in the feeling of Keith’s soft hair under his fingers and the warmth of his skin, but then he remembered exactly why he was doing this. Somehow, Keith had leaned into the fake boyfriends thing so well that Lance was left reeling.

 _Part of the act_ , Lance thought to himself. Keith always threw himself into any task headfirst and with reckless enthusiasm. Why would he expect this to be any different?

A loud cough sounded behind Lance, and he turned to see Tio Ricardo standing there with a thunderous expression on his face.

Maintaining eye contact with his uncle, Lance leaned in and gave Keith a kiss, planted low on his cheek, catching the corner of his mouth. Keith stiffened slightly underneath him but relaxed almost immediately once he figured out what Lance was doing. Lance lingered, a little because his uncle looked like he was about to shit himself and a lot because he couldn’t bring himself to squander this moment.

Lance leaned back slowly, squeezing Keith’s hand one last time, and turning to go back to his spot at the end of the aisle.

Tio Ricardo looked away, making a disgusted noise in his throat, but Lance simply walked past him, a smug look on his face.

Eventually, the crowd flooding through the church doors thinned out, and the ceremony was set to start. Lance and the other ushers took their seats, and the music started.

Lance wasn’t kidding when he said Catholic services were long. It seemed to take ages, the procession of priests, of groomsmen and the nervous but smiling groom, but eventually, the telltale music started and everyone rose, and he turned and saw his sister, in her beautiful, perfectly tailored white dress, arm-in-arm with their mother.

He had promised himself he would try not to cry this early in the ceremony, but he couldn’t help but think of how happy his mother looked, how beautiful his sister was, and how much he missed his dad.

Veronica slowly made her way between the pews, but when she reached Lance, she subtly held out her hand. Lance gave it a squeeze, and he blinked away tears that threatened to blur his vision.

When they reached the altar, Mamá Ramirez gave Veronica’s hand a hard kiss, placing it in Mark’s before walking off to her seat.

Mark looked absolutely stunned, unable to speak for a moment after lifting Veronica’s veil, and Lance smiled. Mark was quiet, but Lance didn’t miss the soft looks, the small touches, and the unflinching trust he showed his sister. That kind of partnership, that was rare.

Lance would have liked to say that the ceremony went by in a blur, but the truth was, it was excruciatingly long, punctuated only by everyone rising and sitting, rising and sitting. By the time they said their vows (which Lance would proudly admit he cried at), exchanged rings, and the priest pronounced them husband and wife, everyone was ready for some fun, food, and, in the case of most everyone over the age of 16, alcohol.

Lance and the rest of his immediate family met the newlyweds just outside the church, and they were shoved together in all possible configurations for photos. Even Keith was forced to join in for at least a few. Veronica gave Lance a wink and had them pose with her, whispering something in Keith’s ear that had him blushing.

Lance was about ready to kill her, but he promised himself to wait at least until after dinner. No use killing his sibling on an empty stomach.

The official wedding party was ushered off for more pictures, and the rest of the guests were left to meet at the reception.

“Hey, you survived!” Lance said, once they had made it to the car, piling in and taking off for the beach.

Keith collapsed in the car seat next to him, head tilting back and eyes closed. “You’re going to be doing my laundry for at least a month when we get back.”

Lance laughed, trying not to let himself trace the line of Keith’s jaw with his eyes. “I would argue with you, but honestly, that’s fair.”

Keith opened one eye and squinted at him suspiciously. “I’m holding you to that.”

They pulled into the parking lot, and Lance hopped out of the car, holding the door open so Keith could climb out behind him. He slammed the car door and turned around, and his breath caught.

The evening sun lit up the little stretch of beach, a walkway made of shells and lanterns leading towards a large tent where mismatched tables and chairs had been set up, covered in delicate lace and flower petals. Fairy lights wound all through the tent, and off to the side was the DJ setup, which was mostly his younger cousin Leandro, the amps from his band, a laptop, and a temporary dance floor placed on the sand.

It was understated and simple, but all the more special because of it. Neither Veronica nor Mark wanted a lavish wedding. Instead, everyone decided to pitch in, donating tables and chairs and lights, and Lance knew Marco had had a major hand in setting up the reception.

Lance turned to Keith in delight, but his words caught in his throat for what felt like the billionth time. Keith had turned into the ocean breeze, his eyes fluttering shut, soaking in the smells and sounds of the beach. He was more beautiful than anything Lance had ever seen in his life.

“Come on,” Lance said gently, not wanting to interrupt, but needing to for the sake of his own sanity. “Let’s go find our seats.”

 

\---

 

Despite being waylaid by several well-meaning relatives, he and Keith made it to their seats with minimal damage. Lance still had to try his best to ignore just how easily the word “boyfriend” slipped from his lips every time he had to introduce him, how well the label seemed to fit Keith, but that was a problem for Future Lance.

For now, Present Lance just let himself enjoy the moment, shoving any guilt down until his smile felt close to genuine.

Eventually, the wedding party made it back, and the celebration began in full swing. Food, a family-style potluck, was served, and of course the rum and wine flowed freely. People chatted, the bride and groom made their rounds, and people tapped the sides of their glasses with their silverware so often that Veronica and Mark must have gotten tired of kissing each other by now.

Soon, Leandro announced the first dance, and Veronica and Mark made their way to the little dance floor. The sounds of a ukulele sounded over the speaker, and an acoustic cover of “Still Into You” played as Vero and Mark swayed in place. It was sweet and sappy, and Lance couldn’t wait to make fun of his sister for it.

After the final notes of the song rang out, Veronica and Mark just stood there, hugging each other tightly.

Lance made eye contact with Keith, gave a mischievous grin, and grabbed his spoon. He tapped loudly at the side of his glass, and it wasn’t a moment before Marco joined in, and soon there was a tinkling of glasses. Veronica and Mark separated the barest bit before leaning in and sharing a lingering kiss.

Lance cheered loudly, and Keith laughed beside him.

“And now,” the Leandro said, Mark stepping off the dance floor and Mamá walking up, “the mother-daughter dance.”

The beginning notes played, and Lance sucked in a breath.

“What?” Keith asked, looking over at Lance with concern.

Lance kept his eyes glued to the dancefloor, where his Mamá and his sister were stepping to the old-fashioned sounds of “My Girl.”

“This song,” Lance said, his words thick with tears, “Dad used to sing it to Vero every night. Oh god, he was an awful singer, but Vero loved it.”

When Lance and Veronica were little, they had shared a room, and Lance could still hear the sound of his father’s raspy voice approximating the soothing sounds of the motown oldie. He would always get jealous, cry that he wanted a song too, and his dad would always laugh and give in, changing the lyrics to “My Boy” until Lance and Vero were giggling messes.

Lance choked back a sob as he watched the two most important women in his life wiped each other’s tears as they danced.

Keith placed a hand over Lance’s, just resting it there in a gesture of solidarity.

Soon, the dances were over, and more food was brought out. The beach rang loud with the sounds of laughter, and Lance could see that his cousin Hector had already had one glass too many, telling dirty jokes much to the chagrin of his wife.

Eventually, the toasts were made, and the Maid of Honor, Veronica’s best friend from college, gave a heartfelt speech about their history together and how she wouldn’t let Vero go to anyone less worthy. The Best Man also gave a speech, though decidedly less planned-out and more ad-libbed, making good natured jabs as Mark’s complete hopelessness when it came to Veronica.

Everyone gave their cheers, and drank to the happy couple.

But then, Veronica tapped her glass.

“I know it’s not exactly traditional for the bride to speak,” Veronica said, her voice ringing out clear on the ocean breeze, “but I’d like to say a few words anyway.”

A hush fell over the guests, and Veronica continued.

“Mark and I have been together for four years. That doesn’t seem very long in the grand scheme of things, really, but then again, life is short, and a lot can happen in four years. Four years ago, I was wild, smart, and driven, and all I wanted was to prove myself. I wanted the highest grades, the best of friends, and the kind of immortality only twenty-somethings know. If anyone knows me at all, they know that I am still wild, and I hope that I’m still just as smart and driven, but I like to think that I’ve learned a bit more about what’s actually important. It’s not grades, it’s not youth. It’s the people you’re with.

“When I met Mark, I felt like a completely different person. I’ve changed so much since then, and anyone who’s been twenty knows a little something about change. It’s drastic and shifting, and no less profound because of how slow it is. Life’s only constant is that people change.”

Veronica paused, looking out over the crowd.

“I am so proud to have changed with Mark by my side, and I am so excited to continue to change with him.”

Veronica looked directly at Lance when she spoke her last few words. “It’s not everyday you get to fall in love with your best friend.”

Distantly, Lance recognized the chorus of “aww”s that sounded around the reception, but Veronica had him glued with her stare. Instead of wanting to retreat, however, Lance only met her gaze defiantly. He was in love with his best friend, and to Lance, requited or not, it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Veronica gave him a subtle nod and raised her glass. “To change,” she said, raising her glass once more.

“To change!” everyone said, and Lance felt the heaviness in his stomach directly at odds with the lightness of the champagne.

Lance looked to his left, letting himself really look at Keith. He had a wistful smile on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. As if magnetized, Keith’s eyes snapped to Lance’s own, and Lance knew that he didn’t stand a chance. Keith burned so bright, like a star, and Lance was helplessly trapped in his orbit.

A slow, knowing half-smile broke across Keith’s face gently, like the rising of the sun, and Lance felt exposed, unfolded, but he couldn’t find it in himself to mind. Not when it was Keith who knew him.

The music started up again, snapping Lance out of his daze.

“Oh hell yes!” Lance shouted, standing up and trying to drag Keith up with him.

“Nope,” Keith said, and he crossed his arms and sat stubbornly in his chair. “You know I don’t dance.”

Lance grinned playfully. “Pidge has video evidence from Halloween two-kay-sixteen that proves otherwise.”

Blood instantly drained from Keith’s face, and his eyes widened. “That was a fluke.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Well how about the Great DDR Debacle of twenty-seventeen?”

“That’s a video game, it doesn’t count.”

Lance’s smile turned sly. “So I’m guessing that that one time I got home early and you were playing Just Dance doesn’t count either?”

Keith’s eyes snapped to Lance’s, and Lance almost doubled over with laughter at how fearful he looked.

“Oh yes, I know all about your little Just Dance obsession.”

“Well, fuck,” Keith said.

“So no excuses Fred Astaire, let’s dance!” Lance said, grabbing Keith’s hand and dragging him out to the dancefloor.

The typical wedding songs blasted, and they danced to them all--the Cha Cha Slide (wherein Lance went _all out_ on the cha cha, eliciting sniggers from his cousins and a side eye from Keith), the Cupid Shuffle (in which everyone tried turning at the wrong time and it ended up devolving into complete and utter chaos), Twist and Shout, Uptown Funk.

At some point, someone thought it was a good idea to put on Cotton Eyed Joe, and Keith swept the floor with everyone, and Lance looked on delightedly, subtly trying to film it for Pidge.

Eventually, though, just as the sun was setting and the world was set alight, the soaring of romantic strings replaced the heavy bass. The slow crooning of Etta James carried over the beach, and people began pairing off.

Lance turned to Keith, and in a moment of either bravery or insanity, Lance wasn’t sure which, he held out a hand. He hoped Keith couldn’t see him shaking.

Keith looked down at the proffered hand, and Lance’s heart dropped as he realized Keith might not take it.

Then, much to his surprise, he felt the now-familiar callouses brush against his palm as Keith’s hand slid gently into his own.

His eyes met Keith’s, and he saw no apprehension, no nervousness, no hesitation. Lance, for a moment, let himself believe that the soft look Keith was giving him meant more than it did.

This whole week felt like a precious thing, giving Lance a taste of what it would be like to have Keith, not just as a friend, but as a real partner. This moment was something that Lance wanted, wanted so badly that it ached in his very bones, and for a song, just one song, Lance was going to let himself pretend.

He pulled Keith towards him, tentatively, hesitantly, oh so carefully draping his arms around Keith’s shoulders, unable to look away from the violet light dancing in Keith’s eyes. This close, Lance couldn’t miss the hitch in Keith’s breath, and his own breath caught when Keith’s hands drifted gently down to his waist, his touch feather-light.

They swayed, though Lance couldn’t tell if it was actual movement or just his own dizziness at Keith’s proximity. In some part of Lance’s brain, the overly-sappy, romantic lyrics of the song registered, but he didn’t dare lose one bit of this moment.

He and Keith orbited each other like binary stars, the force of each other’s gravity turning them in this dance. Lance swore he could see galaxies swirling in Keith’s eyes.

The song swelled and came to a close much too soon, and he and Keith stilled.

Keith’s eyes flickered down to Lance’s lips and back up, and Lance felt the fluttering of his pulse and the shallowness of his breath, but neither of those things stopped him from what he did next.

Lance leaned forward, just the tiniest bit, and spoke, his voice hardly above a whisper. “I love you.”

Then he closed the distance, lips brushing Keith’s in the barest hint of a kiss, but one that left Lance reeling nonetheless. Keith stiffened beneath him, and for a moment, Lance thought he had fucked up, royally. But then, impossibly, beautifully, Keith leaned forward, returning that gentle pressure.

He felt dizzy and breathless, his mind blissfully blank as Keith kissed him back, soft, chaste, and dichotomously calm compared to the storm that was raging inside Lance.

Something tickled at the back of Lance’s mind, a niggling doubt that told him this was all just an act, and he tried to brush it aside, tried to memorize the way Keith’s hands felt as they pressed against his back, how it felt to have Keith’s slightly chapped lips pressed against his own. But the more he tried to resist, the louder the thought became, until the full force of what he had done slammed into him.

He pulled back with a gasp, and his eyes snapped open. He couldn’t bear looking at Keith, didn’t want to see the look of horror that was sure to be on his face.

“Oh god, Keith, I’m so sorry,” Lance said, his voice already hoarse. “I’m sorry, you said--and I never should have--”

“Lance,” Keith said gently, and that was all it took for Lance to give in and look up.

Keith didn’t look horrified, or disgusted, or even surprised. Instead, he had that small smile, the one Keith only gave _him_ , and his eyes were soft.

“Come with me,” Keith said, stepping away, but sliding his hand down Lance’s arm until it caught Lance’s hand. He tugged, and Lance followed like he always did, helpless in Keith’s gravity.

Keith dragged him away from the crowd and towards the water, and if Lance had bothered to look up, he would have noticed the knowing smile from his sister, or the pretend gagging from Marco, or the wink his mother gave Keith. But, as ever, he noticed nothing but Keith.

Keith stopped a ways down the beach, and the crashing of the waves matched the beating of Lance’s heart. He gripped Lance’s hands, squeezing gently as he looked up into Lance’s eyes.

Lance didn’t want to hope, didn’t dare to, and so he did what he always did when he felt like his heart was going to break and built up his defense.

“Keith, I’m so sorry, I really shouldn’t have kiss--”

Keith held up a hand and Lance stopped.

“You really, _really_ don’t need to apologize for that,” Keith said, and Lance only saw that openness, that blunt honesty that he had fallen for so long ago.

But still, the voice in his head screamed that this wasn’t true, couldn’t be. Keith was just saving face in front of his family.

“You don’t have to keep acting, Keith,” Lance said, turning his head away and pulling his hands out of Keith’s. “I know I overstepped. If you need space for a while, I’ll understand.”

“Lance, look at me,” Keith said, placing his hands gently on Lance’s face, lifting his chin.

Lance dragged his wide-eyes back to Keith’s, searching and scanning for any sign of anger, of doubt, of anything that would satisfy the voices in his head telling him he couldn’t have what he wanted so badly.

Keith swiped a thumb across Lance’s cheek to brush away the tears Lance hadn’t even noticed were falling. “None of this--not one moment since we stepped off that plane--has been an act.”

Lance felt like he couldn’t breathe, the hope swelling in his chest thick and suffocating.

“What do you mean?” Lance choked out, even now not daring to believe what was right in front of him.

Keith huffed out a single, breathless laugh, shaking his head in fond exasperation. “You’re really smart, but I swear to god you can be so dense sometimes.”

Lance scrunched his eyebrows together. “Look, if you’re just going to insult me--”

“Oh my god, I’m trying to say I love you too, you idiot,” Keith said, and he tugged Lance forward so their lips met once more. This time, it was Lance who froze, petrified by the impossibility of those words. Yet, a part of his brain, one that suspiciously sounded like Veronica, screamed _Kiss him back, menso!_ and he let himself melt into Keith’s embrace.

This kiss wasn’t like the last one. Before, it had been gentle, soft, barely-there. Something that could be taken back. But this kiss, this was a hard press of lips, sure and irrefutable.

In it, Lance could feel every moment of tension, every brush of their hands, every lingering kiss on the cheek, every moment tangled together in Lance’s too-small bed. All of it snapped into sharp focus as they moved against each other in a dance both fierce and urgent.

Keith kissed with all the fire and passion and determination he brought to anything else in his life. He was clearly out of practice, a little sloppy and clumsy, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he surrendered to the push and pull of Keith’s gravity.

And no doubts plagued him. He knew with unwavering certainty this wasn’t an act, just like he knew the sky was blue and the world turned and stars emitted light.

At that moment, though, next to the clear blue of the water, lit by the brilliant rays of the setting sun, he’d be hard-pressed to find a star that burned brighter than the one in his chest.

 

\---

 

At some point, Lance and Keith stopped kissing and being generally sappy down by the water and made their way back up to the rest of the family. Veronica took one look at their entwined hands and gave Lance an obvious wink. Lance shoved her shoulder in retaliation.

The night grew dark, but the lights were soft and bright, and every once in a while, Lance would look over at Keith and smile, knowing that Keith was his, and he was Keith’s.

You know, space ranger partners.

Eventually, though, Lance and Keith had to say their goodbyes. They had an early flight, after all.

Lance made his rounds, giving tearful hugs to relatives he knew he wouldn’t see again for some time, and he made sure to take Keith to say goodbye to his nieces and nephew.

“ _Adios, chiquitos_ ,” Lance said, giving all three of them hugs. “ _Recuerden, les dije que paren de crecer_.”

Clara and Ernesto giggled, and Isa hid behind her dad.

“ _Adios, Isa_ ,” Keith said, bending down and looking directly at the littlest Ramirez. “ _Te voy a extrañar_.”

Suddenly, Isa ran out from behind Luis and gave Keith a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, Keef.”

Lance honestly felt like his heart was going to explode. Keith gave a blinding smile, standing up reluctantly.

“Thank you,” Penelope said, heartfelt but exhausted, “to you both. It meant a lot that you watched them for us.”

“You’re welcome,” Keith said, still smiling.

Lance nodded. “It was no problem at all. You know I love the little monsters.”

“Well, the little monsters love you,” Penelope said.

Suddenly, Lance felt the telltale pinprick of tears in his eyes. “I’ll miss you guys,” he said thickly.

Luis gave him and Keith a knowing smile. “We’ll always be here for you, when you come back.”

Then, his brother looked directly at Lance. “Dad would be proud of you.”

Lance couldn’t bring himself to do anything but give a tearful nod. Luis was never his closest sibling, and being older than Lance by about six years left a considerable distance between them that had only grown after Lance moved to Arizona. Hearing him say this now meant a lot to him.

“Goodbye, Luis.”

Lance turned and continued his and Keith’s last round of goodbyes.

Finally, they made it to the newlyweds.

“Bye, Ronnie,” Lance said, giving his sister a hug. “You were right, by the way” he said, whispering in her ear.

She squeezed back. “Told you so.”

After a long moment, they pulled away.

“See you stateside,” Veronica said.

Lance nodded, and he and Keith wished the couple a final farewell before turning away.

“And Keith?” Veronica called.

Lance felt a tug on his and Keith’s intertwined hands as Keith stopped to look back at Veronica.

“Yeah?” Keith asked.

Veronica gave Keith a hard look that had even Lance shuddering. “I’m watching you.”

Lance swore he heard Keith actually gulp in fear.

“Leave my boyfriend alone,” Lance said, pulling Keith towards the edge of the pavillion.

The tinkling of Vero’s laugh followed them down the beach.

They walked a short ways in silence, the lights and sounds of the ongoing reception fading as they walked on the rapidly cooling sand. In a moment of boldness, Lance grabbed Keith’s hand.

“So...boyfriend, huh?” Keith asked, giving Lance a sly grin.

Lance faltered and his face felt flushed. “I didn’t mean--I was just--”

Keith gave a soft laugh. “I like the way that sounds.”

That ball of warmth that had been curling in his chest since the night began spread, and Lance felt like he was going supernova. He broke out in a grin, and squeezed Keith’s hand, receiving a gentle pressure back.

They took their time, walking along the beach, making their way back to the house. The sun had set but the moon was still bright, and Lance soaked in the sound and the smells of the ocean, savoring them while he could.

After a moment, he turned to Keith. “So, how long?”

Keith smiled. “How long have I been in love with you?”

Even though he had heard Keith say it before, hearing it now still knocked the wind out of him. “Yeah.”

Keith shrugged. “Since before we moved in.”

“Oh no no, no you don’t,” Lance said, pointing an accusing finger at Keith.

“What?” Keith’s eyebrows scrunched together, and Lance had to steel himself against how cute Keith looked.

“You don’t get to just say that!”

“Wait, why not?” Keith asked. “How long has it been for you?”

Lance stopped, planting his feet in the sand, staring at Keith with what he was sure was an incredulous expression on his face. “Since we moved in.”

There was a moment where the only sound that could be heard was the crashing of waves. And then the two of them erupted into peals of laughter.

“You mean we’ve been in love with each other the entire goddamn time?” Keith gasped out between laughs.

Lance shook his head, wiping a stray tear out of the corner of his eye. “To be fair, I only just found out.”

Keith gave Lance a fond look. “You always were a little slow on the uptake.”

“Hey, I resent that!” Lance said as he and Keith resumed walking. “I’m usually very good at feelings.”

“Says the boy who didn’t realize I was in love with him for two whole years,” Keith replied.

“Hey, you didn’t make a move, either,” Lance said.

Lance saw Keith look at him out of the corner of his eye. “I guess I didn’t. But I’m glad you did.”

Lance smiled, to himself as much as to Keith. “Yeah, I’m really glad I did too.”

 

\---

 

They made it home with little fanfare. The house was quiet and so were they as they rid themselves of their formal wedding attire and changed into their pajamas---without one of them leaving the room or fainting, which Lance thought was a plus. They were both quiet as they packed their things, and Lance began to feel the telltale pang of homesickness already settling in.

Lance zipped his suitcase closed, and the sound felt eerily final. Tears threatened to spill, and his breath became shallow.

Then, he felt the soft warmth of a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look back at Keith who was looking at him with sympathy.

“You’ll be back,” he said gently.

“I know,” Lance said, placing his own hand over the one on his shoulder and leaning his head against them. “Thanks.”

Keith nodded.

Lance would have been happy staying there in that moment forever, but he knew they had an early flight the next day.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Lance said, reluctantly breaking contact with Keith to move towards the bed. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

He and Keith climbed into bed, and it felt just as right as all the other times. Except this time, Lance wasn’t afraid to reach out and curl his arms around Keith. This time, Keith gave him a gentle kiss before drifting off. This time, Lance let himself admire how beautiful Keith was before finding himself following Keith into the inevitable pull of sleep.

 

\---

 

The trip back to Arizona felt rather anticlimactic, considering the week Lance had had.

They had woken up early that morning, Mamá already up and handing them breakfast as Marco loaded his car.

Lance gave a tearful goodbye to his mother, who whacked him gently on the arm and told him in no uncertain terms that he was to call her as often as he could.

She had turned to Keith then, and gave him a hug. Lance didn’t catch what she said to him, but it was enough to make Keith flush a pretty kind of pink and nod.

It had been hard, leaving his mamá again, but he knew he’d see her soon. He was sure of it.

The car ride to the airport was quiet, Lance dozing in the backseat, lulled into a half-sleep by the soft conversation between his brother and Keith.

Eventually, they made it to the airport, where Marco said his goodbyes. Lance gave him a long hug, and much to his surprise, so did Keith.

“You picked a good one,” Marco had said, when Keith went inside to check their luggage. “I’d hold onto him if I were you.”

Lance gave what he knew had to be the sappiest smile in existence. “Yeah, I know.”

Marco made a mock noise of disgust, but Lance heard the fondness in it.

“Bye Marco,” Lance said, giving his brother one last hug.

“Bye, Lance. Take care.”

With that, Lance followed Keith into the terminal.

 

\---

 

Lance and Keith practically stumbled into their apartment, both of them dropping their bags by the door and collapsing on the couch.

“Man, I’m exhausted,” Lance said. “I can’t believe that was only four days.”

“I don’t want to interact with another human for at least a month,” Keith muttered.

“Hey, look at it this way,” Lance said, draping himself across Keith and giving him a brief kiss, “you got an all-expense paid vacation to beautiful Varadero, and you came back with a smoking hot Cuban boyfriend.”

Keith gave Lance a hard look. “Oh no. you’re not getting out of this. You still owe me.”

Any protest died in Lance’s mouth. Keith did end up doing Lance a huge favor, and Lance was resigned to whatever punishment Keith decided he deserved.

Lance studied Keith’s face, prepared for orders to do his laundry or vacuum the entire apartment. Instead, a dangerous smirk broke across Keith’s face, and he leaned forward to capture Lance’s mouth with his own.

Lance moaned as Keith bit gently into his bottom lip, lingering as he pulled away.

“I told you you’d pay for this three times over, so,” Keith said, shoving Lance’s head down until he was level with Keith’s hips, “pay up, Alejandrito.”

Lance grinned, catching on. Oh yes, this was a price he’d gladly pay over and over again.

After all, it wasn’t every day he went to Cuba and came back with a smoking hot boyfriend.

 

—-

 

**Lancey dance pants**

_btw im baaaaack_

_did u miss me <3 _

 

**Hunky dory**

_Oh now you text me_

_Didn’t you land yesterday??_

 

**Lancey dance pants**

_ive been busy ;)_

 

**Hunky dory**

_With what?! The semester ended_

 

**Lancey dance pants**

_u want the long version or the short version_

 

**Hunky dory**

_With you? The short version. Always the short version_

 

**Lancey dance pants**

_keith and i r dating_

 

**Hunky dory**

_OH MY GOSH_

_!!!!!!!!_

_LONG VERSION PLEASE_

_Pidge is gonna flip_

_Oh no I think I owe her money now_

 

**Lancey dance pants**

_long version is_

_when two people love each other very much_

_one of them gives th other like 5 bjs and forgets to text his friend that he got home_

 

**Hunky dory**

_STOP STOP STOP_

_I GET IT_

_I hope your boyfriend loves you because I certainly don’t right now_

 

**Lancey dance pants**

_HE DOES!!!_

_:D_

_ <33333 _

**Author's Note:**

> And that's all, folks! (Credit to Dee for figuring out the absolute best way to end this fic. Seriously, they rock)
> 
> I very possibly might do a much shorter fic in Keith's POV just for funsies. Anyway.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you liked this, you should check out my and Dani's beach AU [Salty Kisses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14992508/chapters/34747796), featuring marine biologist/beach attendant!Lance, photographer!Keith, and lots of Klance, with a special appearance of vacation!Shiro. It's angsty and feelsy and you get to see more of Drunk!Klance.
> 
> Or, just come say hi on [tumblr](http://www.thetolkiengeek.tumblr.com).
> 
> The version of Still Into You that Veronica and Mark dance to is (don't laugh) what I imagine is a slower version of [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_sh_0-0b24). 
> 
> Spanish for this fic (note that some of these are approximations):  
> [Te quiero, Mamá} I love you Mama  
> [Oh, ¡Mira qué grande estás! ¡Te dije cuando me fuí que debiás parar de crecer!] Oh my, how big you’ve gotten! I told you when I left to stop growing  
> [Te extrañe] I've missed you  
> [¿Mami, me voy a llevar las maletas y darle a Keith un tour, ¿está bien?] Mami, I’m gonna take the luggage up and give Keith a tour. Is that okay?  
> [¡Comó te atreves a traer tus pies con arena cuando la casa está limpia! ¡Te críe mejor que eso Alejando!] How dare you bring your sandy feet into this nice clean house! I’ve raised you better than that Alejandro!  
> [Dios the hizo, y Él no comete errores. Tú tienes más amor que dar y no es problema de nadie, mientras tú sepas quién eres y que Dios te ama, todo estará bien.] God made you and he doesn’t make mistakes. You’ve just got a lot more love to give, that’s all.  
> [¿Por casualidad podrían ser estos míos?] Any chance any of those are for me?  
> [solo si tú y Keith se llevan a los peques hoy. Llevo cuidandolos por 4 días seguidos] Only if you and Keith take the little ones today. I’ve been watching them for four days straight  
> [Dale, no hay problema. Iba a llevar a Keith a la playa igual, simplemente los llevo con nosotros] Yeah, no problem. I was going to take Keith down to the beach anyway, we can just bring them along  
> [Tengo tres pezones en mi trasero] I have three nipples on my ass  
> [Lo extraño tanto] I miss him so much  
> [Yo también, mijo] Me too, mijo  
> [Recuerden, les dije que paren de crecer] Remember, I said no more growing  
> [Te voy a extrañar] I'll miss you


End file.
